


Rising Ace

by flyingwargle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Gen, Illness AU, Slightly Angsty but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 04:32:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12268962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingwargle/pseuds/flyingwargle
Summary: Bokuto is a volleyball genius, an ace in every way, yet he hasn't played in an official match since middle school. It's not because he doesn't want to - more like he can't. Just as he's about to quit the sport he loves once and for all, a new first-year setter joins the team and changes everything. (Illness AU!)





	1. The Reason Why

_“Hey, Bokuto. Why don’t you play volleyball anymore?”_ Bokuto had turned to look at his friend in alarm when he asked the question aloud. Komi was gnawing on his Popsicle, testing its coldness before sinking his teeth into it. If they hadn't been in the same class during their first year of middle school and realizing they were neighbors, they wouldn't had been friends at all.

The whistle blew and the opposing side threw the ball up for the serve. He swung with all of his force, sending the ball over the net in the blink of an eye. Komi reacted and received it perfectly, losing his balance but picking himself up a second later. “All right!” he shouted with a fist pump.

“Nice receive!” their setter raised his hands and sent it to the left. “Bokuto!”

“Got it!” Bokuto jumped, left arm straight in front of him, right arm pulled back for the swing. Two blockers jumped to thwart him but two was not enough to stop him. He swung and lightly tapped the ball so it would fall over the block. The libero and setter dove for it but couldn’t catch it in time, resulting in the end of the rally.

_“I can’t play anymore,_ ” Bokuto had mumbled in response. He sank his teeth into his Popsicle and pulled it away when he realized it was still too cold for his teeth to handle.

“Nice job!” Komi bounced toward him with his hands in the air. Bokuto gave him a double high-five and to the rest of their teammates who raised their hands for him. He grinned, eyes bright, as he glanced over at the score. They were tied now! Just four more points and then the set will be over and it’d be their win. They could maybe, just maybe, advance to the final tournament if they won this set.

“Nice! Nice, Bokuto. Just remember not to do that again next time so they won’t catch on, all right?” the captain smiled at him. Bokuto nodded and gave him a reassuring thumbs-up before taking his spot at the front of the net. He leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees, closing his eyes briefly to listen to his heartbeat and his breath.

_“What? Why not? Of course you can! When we played volleyball last week, you practically killed everyone, including Sensei!”_ Komi had protested. _“You looked so into it. You even did a jump serve! There’s no way you can’t play. You just don’t want to.”_ Bokuto had made a fist and turned away without saying anything. Of course he wanted to play - he loved volleyball, but it wasn't as simple as Komi had thought it would be. Bokuto wouldn't have quit if it could've been helped.

The serve went up and the libero received it cleanly. A spiker on the left started his approach for a quick, the middle blocker on the right started running a moment after. The spiker in the back row was watching the toss as well. Was it going to be a quick from the left or an attack from the right? Or could it be a back attack instead?

He jumped with the middle blocker when the toss went to the left. It touched Bokuto’s hand and he called out “One touch!” as he landed. He backed up and started running for the counterattack as Komi sent it to the setter.

“Go, Bokuto!” the setter tossed to him again. Bokuto aimed for a cross, the sound of it hitting the court echoing satisfyingly in his ears. The whistle blew. That was two consecutive points!

“ _I love volleyball. I just…can’t play anymore._ ” A dragonfly had landed on the concrete beneath him and flew away promptly when his shadow moved. _“It’s…really hard to explain, but…in elementary school, there was a really important match and…I…”_

“Hey! You okay?” Komi cried out when Bokuto stumbled. Bokuto looked at him, recognizing concern gleaming in his eyes. “Do you need a break?”

Bokuto shook his head, cursing when his vision started to spin a bit. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “I can keep playing.”

“If…you say so…” Komi glanced at their setter, who was watching from the distance. “Don’t toss to him so much, okay? Let him take a break.”

The setter adjusted his glasses and gave Bokuto a long look. “We’re almost done with this set,” he said. “He’s the only one who can score so easily. If he does his job right then we’ll be done before we know it.” He jogged back to his position. Komi gave Bokuto a small pat on the shoulder before turning to go back to his. Bokuto drew in a breath and placed a hand on his chest. He could feel his heart pounding wildly. _Just a little longer,_ he willed himself. _Three more points and then we’ll be done._

_“Did you lose?”_ Komi had asked quietly. Bokuto didn’t react, didn’t look up. He kept looking down. _“I think I know which match you’re talking about. I was there, watching the whole thing. It looked like they made you do all of the work.”_

The opposing team scored with a dump shot. The ball was tossed up and served toward the front of the net. The setter received it awkwardly and shouted for Komi. “Cover, Komi! Send it to Bokuto!”

“I’ve got it!” Komi held his arms out and sent it to the captain on the left. “Captain! Go for it!”

He wasn’t expecting the toss to go to him so he jumped and swung, his spike getting caught by the opponent’s block. Just like that, they were tied again. The setter turned to glare at Komi. “I told you to send it to Bokuto! We could be at the match point by now!”

“He isn’t the only spiker on the team!” Komi retorted. “There are six of us on the court for a reason!”

It was Bokuto’s serve now. He bounced the ball against the floor a few times and exhaled, hoping to be able to concentrate enough to aim his serve to the setter. The whistle blew and he tossed the ball up, took a few steps for the approach, and jumped. _Crap!_ Bokuto’s vision blurred once again from the rushed transition. _I can’t see the ball!_ He counted to two and swung, managing to tap the ball so it would land just over the net. The libero dove for it and saved it. A hasty toss was sent to their ace and he broke through the block easily. Match point.

_“My dad was the team’s coach. He trained us really hard. He said our school has never won the tournament before and he wanted us to win. Even after practice, he’d make me practice with him outside. He kept saying to them over and over that they could toss to me if there’s no one else to send it to.”_ Bokuto could hear his father’s shouts and yells echoing in his mind. _“We didn’t even feel like a team…more like they were helping_ me _instead of me helping everyone.”_

“What kind of serve was that? If it’s a jump serve then make it a good one!” the setter snapped at him. Komi took a step forward but Bokuto pulled him back. He was in the back row now. He could catch a break, if only a quick one. This was a good chance to prove they could play without him.

The serve went up and Bokuto received it. The setter went for the dump shot and it managed to get through. Komi rotated out with the middle blocker and he glanced at his friend as he walked off of the court. His eyes were narrowed in a way that said, _don’t push yourself._ Bokuto gave him a small nod.

_“The last set was a really close game…we’d score and they’d score…the toss went to me a lot and I got really tired and out of breath really fast…I didn’t know what was wrong. No one knew. I didn’t tell my dad because I thought he’d switch me out and then he’d call me weak or something. So I kept playing.”_

Bokuto saved a cross that was aimed at him. It went long and the two middle blockers fought to push the ball over the net. He dove for it when it was pushed onto his side and a toss was sent to their captain on the right. His spike was barely in but it counted.

He pushed himself up, losing his balance as he did so, careening into the setter, who gave him a look and shoved him upward. Spots blinked in and out of his field of vision. His heart felt like it was going to burst any time and he felt uncomfortably hot and sweaty. He didn’t have enough time to calm his heart and with both of their timeouts used up, there was no way he could recover. _A little longer more…_

“ _That last rally…I was in the back row…it hit the blocker’s hand and it was going long…I started running for it. I saved it and my teammates connected, but…”_ Bokuto had trailed off. He felt embarrassed to admit what happened next.

They had been deucing for a while now. Bokuto was in the front again, Komi at his reliable back. The serve went up and Komi received it. Bokuto started running for a first tempo attack and the toss was sent to him. He blinked and blinked but nothing could clear the spots in his vision. He gritted his teeth and aimed for a cross. It was saved and sent back to the setter cleanly. An attack was coming.

“One touch!” the middle blocker shouted. Komi received it, sending it to their setter. His eyes met Bokuto’s and he nodded. One point here. Another point there. Two more was all they needed to win.

He jumped as two blockers threatened to shut him down. There was no room for a straight and someone was waiting for his cross. He tapped it for a feint and the setter received it. Their libero sent it to the ace and another one touch was called out. This time, the setter got it so Komi went in for the cover.

“Send it here!” Bokuto shouted. He started running toward the net and Komi, with no other choice left, sent the ball to him. He spiked a straight before the blockers could get into position. The whistle blew and the score was added to the total. It was their match point.

All of his strength left him. He was breathing hard, unable to catch his breath, his heart beating erratically, his vision spinning. Before he knew it, he collapsed, crumpled in a heap, his vision white, and a ringing in his ears that blocked the noises of the gymnasium out.

_“You passed out.”_ Komi’s voice had been quiet.

_“I passed out.”_ Bokuto had confirmed it just as quietly.

“Bokuto! What happened?” a frenzy of voices swirled around him. They all sounded the same and he couldn’t tell who was saying what. “Bokuto! Can you hear me? Are you awake? Open your eyes!”

“What happened?” another voice joined the chorus. This one he could recognize – their coach’s. “Is he hurt? Where did he get hurt?”

“We need to sub him out!” someone shouted. Komi! His friend’s voice sent a jolt through him and his vision started clearing up. He could only see their shoes and the gymnasium wall beyond them. He recognized Komi’s yellow court shoes anywhere. “We need to take him to the medical office. Coach, please, sub him out. He can’t keep playing like this.”

“Can’t? What do you mean? We need him! We need to win this!” the setter’s voice was loud, too loud for Bokuto to bear. He squeezed his eyes shut, the movement alerting his team that he had regained consciousness. “See? He’s fine! Get up, Bokuto! We need you!”

There was a brief pause as the coach contemplated what to do. “Komi, you’re being rotated out this rotation. Take him to the medical office and come straight back. Ryoma, you’re taking Bokuto’s place. Shido, help Komi.”

Bokuto opened his eyes as the two boys slipped underneath him and supported him off the court. He regained enough strength to walk on his own and his vision was clear enough. The last thing he heard was the whistle as the match resumed.

The nurse helped him lie onto the cot before sending the boys back. She turned to look at the boy, a sad smile shaping her lips. “Koutarou, you’re very brave to be playing like this with your condition,” she said in a gentle voice. “You have to be more careful in the future. Try not to get too involved in the game and remember you’re allowed to stop when you feel too dizzy or lightheaded. Okay?”

He nodded weakly and closed his eyes. He could feel his heart slowing down by the minute. If he could just recover in time he could go back and win the game for his team…

_“I don’t remember much but I remember waking up in the medical office. My parents were arguing and my mom took me to the hospital. The doctors ran tests on me…”_ Bokuto had paused to take a bite of his Popsicle. A shiver ran down his spine. _“They said…there was something wrong with my heart and that they have to put something inside me so it could work properly.”_

When he woke up next, he realized his team was gathered around him. All of them were still dressed in their jerseys and shorts, their team jackets thrown on over them. Komi was closest to him, the rest of them a step behind him. Bokuto could hear the coach and manager talking outside and he caught a glimpse of his mom. “Hey,” Komi said softly. “Good to see you’re still with us.”

_“It’s called a pacemaker.”_ Bokuto had placed a hand on his chest when Komi asked him what it was they placed inside of him. “ _It helps my heart beat. I guess…since I didn’t have it before…it went crazy and I passed out…”_

_“Did your team find out?”_ Komi had asked. “ _You passed out and got taken off of the court. Did they know why?”_

Bokuto sat up slowly and flinched back when the setter stalked toward him and grabbed his collar. “We lost the game because of you,” he snarled. “If you didn’t pass out at the most crucial part of the match then we could’ve won. If you passed out later then it would’ve been fine but _no_ , you just had to do that right there and then. This is all your fault.”

_“No._ ” Bokuto’s answer had been blunt. “ _They didn’t know. I never told them and we graduated a few weeks later anyway so there was no point._ ”

“Hey, hold up!” Komi jumped to his friend’s defense immediately. “You can’t say stuff like that! Bokuto isn’t even the ace so why are you blaming him? If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for tossing to him all the time! We have three spikers on the court all the time, you know!”

“Obviously I’d toss to him,” the setter scoffed. “He’s the son of Bokuto Takeshi for a reason, right? The best volleyball player in Japan? So his son has to be some super insane spiker too, right? _Wrong._ Turns out he drops like a fly just because he’s _tired._ ” He sneered. “You’re weak. No one would want to play with you.”

Komi glared daggers at him. He turned his attention to the other players on the team. “He can’t be right, you know! Help me out!” there was some shuffling and mumbling but no one spoke up to defend Bokuto. “You guys don’t know anything…!”

“ _Is that why you don’t play anymore?”_ Bokuto had looked up when Komi spoke aloud. The shorter boy had finished his Popsicle and was licking his stick. _“Things are different now. You’ve got your pacemaker and medicine. I know about it so if something bad happens, I’d know why. Don’t you miss it? The sound of a spike…”_

“I knew you’d never taken us seriously,” the setter continued. “You come to practice whenever you want and you don’t even stay for the whole thing.”

“ _Completely shutting a spike out all on your own…”_

“And when we have practice matches, you don’t even play. You just sit there and watch. And then when we have official games, you get to play. Obviously I’ll toss to you then because you need the practice.”

_“Winning with your whole team or losing with your whole team…it’s not just you alone. It’s everyone together.”_

“We had a chance this year and we lost it because of _you_. You should never play volleyball again.”

“ _A lot of sports are for tall guys but volleyball has a libero position and it’s usually for short people. I love being a libero because I get to protect everyone from the back. Just knowing my receive or cover is enough to let you guys fight and win is enough for me.”_ Komi had given him the brightest smile Bokuto had ever seen. It made him tear up and he quickly looked away so he wouldn’t see.

Komi shouted, “That’s enough! You guys should just leave. There’s no team out there that should ever talk like that to a teammate.” He stood defensively in front of his friend’s cot as his team shuffled out, their coach and manager remaining outside. Bokuto’s mother lingered by the door, waiting for the right time to enter.

“ _If you want to join us, let me know. I’m the team’s libero and the third-years are leaving after the Inter-High. We’ll need a spiker afterwards. With you, we’ll definitely go to Nationals for the first time.”_ Komi’s voice was excited. “ _It’ll be so fun. Let’s do it!”_

_“Okay.”_ Bokuto couldn’t stop himself. Komi blinked at him in surprise. _“I’ll do it. I’ll join.”_

_“All right! Thanks, Bokuto!”_ Komi’s smile had been infectious last night. Bokuto smiled for the first time in what felt like a long time. The next day, he had followed Komi to the gym where they practiced and he was able to play in a proper court and a proper toss for the first time in months.

That smile seemed like it belonged in a different timeline. Tears pooled Komi’s eyes and he didn’t raise his arm to wipe them. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I guess I got too wound up over going to Nationals and so did the other guys. It was my fault.”

Bokuto shook his head. “It’s not. It’s not theirs either. It’s mine.” He glanced at the ceiling. “Maybe I’ll just quit volleyball for real. No one’s going to want to play with me after all this.” He gave a sheepish look at his friend. “Thanks, Komi. I’m fine. You go ahead. I’ll go home with my mom.”

His mother took that as her cue to enter the room. Komi took a step back and turned around to leave, never glancing back at his friend. Once Bokuto was sure no one else was around, he bowed his head and started to cry, feeling his mother’s arms wrapping around him a moment later.

He was never going to play volleyball again.


	2. The Morning Of

The first serve Bokuto was taught had been the jump serve. Much to everyone’s surprise, it was the only serve he could do. The underhand and overhand serve simply didn’t exist to him because he was never taught to serve like that. Everything in volleyball was an attack, from serving to spiking to blocking to receiving. If you couldn’t initiate an attack then you couldn’t win.

He stood at the end of the court, volleyball rebounding off of the gym floor as he bounced it a few times to focus. He tossed it up, took a few running steps, and jumped. The heel of his hand met the ball and he hurtled it across the net. It landed at the same time he did so he missed the precise location it landed. Judging by how far out the ball had rolled, it was probably out. If he’d done that in a real match, his team would be a point farther from winning.

Winning. That word meant too much, weighed too much. Winning was all that anyone wanted to do, himself included. No one would want a loser. He snatched a ball from the bin and tried again. Either his eyesight was getting worse or he could no longer tell what was in-bounds or out anymore. It _had_ been a while since he last played or came out to practice on his own. He was grateful the captain of the club gave him one of the copies of the gym key when he asked for it.

_This time, it’ll stay in!_ Bokuto jumped and served, focusing on the ball’s course. It was going to land in-bounds – finally, a serve out of five was successful –

A boy appeared out of nowhere and shot beneath the incoming ball. It rebounded off of his arms with a gentle _thud_ that could easily be overlooked in a gymnasium filled with spectators. It wasn’t flashy, just simple. Simplicity described Komi easily, even though there were times he would roll and shout for no reason at all.

The ball was sent to where the setter would be but since there wasn’t one, it landed on the court just as quietly as it was received. Bokuto, startled by his friend’s arrival, fell onto his back because of his awkward landing. “When did you show up?” Bokuto asked, grumbling, as he picked himself up.

“Just now. It’s my turn to set up but you already got everything covered.” Komi retrieved the ball and tossed it in the air a few times. He looked skeptical. Suspicious. “Why are you here? You never come for morning practice.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Bokuto shrugged, turning away to grab another volleyball. He could practically feel Komi burning a hole into his back.

“Sure. Of course.” There was a moment’s pause before Bokuto turned around to look at Komi. His friend rolled his ball under the net to him, saying, “You serve and I’ll receive. If they’re out then I’ll let you know. Okay?”

Bokuto nodded. Komi got into position as he tossed the ball up for the serve. Komi dove and received it, picking himself up quickly so he wouldn’t slide into a flying fall. It was almost magical how every time he received a serve, it would go back to the setter’s position without fail.

“My mom said I should come today,” Bokuto confessed after emptying the bin. The last ball fell short, hitting the net in its descent. It landed on his side of the court.

Komi started kicking balls back to him. “Yeah? Why?” he knew Bokuto’s mom. She was well-known for her tempura and miraculous healing procedures when it came to animals, especially birds. She was also responsible for her son’s insane hairstyle.

“She said, and I quote, ‘you need Komi-yan to knock some sense into you since I’d knock you out if I did that’,” Bokuto answered, making air quotes with his fingers. “Then she locked me out and said to come home after school.”

Well. If it weren’t for her tendency to lock her son out, Komi would love to have her as his mom. “I think next time, you should let her knock you out than ask me to knock sense into you. Why’d she say that anyway?”

Bokuto sat down with downcast eyes. Komi joined him without invitation, patiently waiting for him to speak. “Dad’s team is going to Nationals. Today.”

“Oh. Right.” It had only been in recent years that Itachiyama became a volleyball powerhouse. Bokuto’s dad had brought them from the depths of the unknown to the spotlight, attracting the most powerful players to him to create the ultimate team. His first team had won Nationals. This year might be his second. “Were you planning to watch them? I think Konoha mentioned about going to a match over the weekend…”

That was a bad question. Bokuto raised the volleyball and volleyed it toward Komi. He didn’t answer, biting his lower lip to stop himself from doing so. Komi, awful at overhand passes, had to focus on the ball than his friend. He could still see the question had put him ill at ease, just by looking at the crinkle in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders.

Komi caught the ball. Bokuto, realizing the ball was no longer in the air, turned to look at him. “You miss volleyball,” Komi said slowly, “don’t you? That’s why your mom locked you out and told you to come here. You didn’t even go anywhere else. If you really want to quit, you would’ve went to the park or something.”

He was right. No matter how many times Bokuto said he would never play, he could be found volleying to himself against the wall, practicing his serves whenever no one was looking, or otherwise giving subtle advice to his underclassmen on the team. Being the son of a former Olympic volleyball player meant he could never truly escape. There was a volleyball in every room in his house. Being a student at Fukurodani didn’t help either since the school was top four in Tokyo. They often clashed with Itachiyama during tournaments. It was because of this that Bokuto hadn’t officially joined the team. He didn’t want to see his dad anywhere other than home, especially if he were to stand on the sidelines just to cheer.

“It’s not that you miss volleyball. You miss _playing,_ right?”

Komi had taken the words right out of his mouth. Bokuto nodded, looking down at his court shoes to avoid his friend’s piercing gaze. He hadn’t played an official game since middle school. He couldn’t trust himself to play without collapsing but more importantly, he couldn’t play if he knew he would cost his team’s chance of winning.

“Volleyball isn’t fun anymore,” Bokuto murmured. Komi asked him to repeat himself and he said, more loudly, “If we can’t win, then there’s no point.”

“Volleyball isn’t about winning, you know,” Komi pointed out. “We play because we want to. We compete because we want to see how far our skills go. Getting trophies and stuff are great but it doesn’t mean we’re weak. Bo, I’ve seen you play. You have fun when you play with us. Why say playing isn’t fun anymore?”

Bokuto untied one of his shoes to retie. It was Komi who had dragged him to the volleyball club during their first year to try to persuade him into playing officially again. Even though he declined, the other first-years – who are now next year’s starting line-up – offered to play with him whenever he chose to drop by. They were all good friends now and well-aware of his reluctance to play.

The captain had offered him a position of spiker countless times. Eventually, he gave up asking and settled with giving him a team jacket and gym key. “You can be an honorary member,” he had said to him. “We’ll have you any time you want.”

It was scary to think what he would do without volleyball. Bokuto was about to answer when voices outside gradually grew closer to them. “Sorry we’re late!” Konoha called out, arriving at the door first, out of breath. “There was some sort of malfunction at the train station so everything was delayed.”

“I can’t believe that took so long,” Sarukui groaned from behind Konoha. “Washio, ask your uncle to drive us next time.”

Washio wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were focused on Komi and Bokuto sitting on the floor surrounded by volleyballs. “Is that Bokuto?” he said incredulously. “You hadn’t stopped by morning practice in months.”

“Bokuto?” Sarukui immediately perked up. His gentle smile grew into a grin. “Hey, it _is_ him! Long time no see!”

“Saru, it’s only been three days since you last saw him,” Konoha said. He flipped his bag upside-down to shake his court shoes out. “But, yeah, it has been a long time since we saw you in the morning. Let me guess – your alarm went off on time for once?”

Bokuto scratched the back of his head, unable to answer truthfully. Fortunately, Komi spared him by jumping to his feet. “We should get started! We don’t have a lot of time left anyway.” He turned and offered a hand to Bokuto. “Stay and practice,” he said. “Let’s have a match.”

“The numbers are odd,” Bokuto pointed out under his breath. Komi heard him anyway.

“That doesn’t matter. I’ll stay out and referee for a bit. We can always switch around so all of us can catch a break after a while. Washio, you want to partner with Bo for two-on-two?”

Washio deposited his armful of volleyballs into the bin. “Sure,” he answered with a nod. “I’ll switch with you later, Komi.”

“Thanks!” Komi headed to the sidelines as his four teammates started the rally. Bokuto let out a breath, his golden eyes focusing on his opponents in front of him. It had to be that winning mentality his dad had drilled into him so long ago. There _had_ been a time when he had a winning streak. It seemed like ancient history now.

It only took one successful spike for Bokuto to become fully invested in the game. His serves were deadly, his spikes impossible, his tosses high and inaccurate. He alternated with his partner, sometimes blocking, sometimes receiving, but always spiking. The only ones who could stop him occasionally were Komi, who could receive any ball that came his way, and Washio, the genius second-year blocker.

Konoha called out “Ten minutes!” as a warning. Sarukui tossed the ball up for a jump serve and Bokuto received it, sending it toward Komi. He started his approach, eyes watching the ball, trusting Komi would send it to him in a clear, high, toss. Every spiker had preferred tosses, some of them requiring more specifics than others. Bokuto only had one: it had to be high. Even if a toss was hastily made, there was a good chance of him hitting it.

“All yours, Bo!” Komi jumped into a libero’s toss, sending the ball in a high arch. Bokuto jumped, arm pulled back as the ball sailed toward him. Washio watched him, arms out in front of him for the block, Sarukui standing behind him in case the block went awry. Bokuto swung, aiming for the back of the court. The ball landed before Sarukui could save it, resulting him in sliding across the floor in a flying fall.

Bokuto landed and promptly fell onto his back. Spots covered his vision, leaving him sightless for a moment as he struggled to catch his breath. In the back of his mind, he thought, _this is embarrassing._ He couldn’t remember the last time he passed out during practice. He was always careful not to push himself, to always take breaks every so often, and admit when he could no longer go on. Before, when he was younger, it was Komi who would prompt him when to take a break or stop. Now, he was able to watch himself.

It usually took a minute for his vision to clear and his hearing to return to normal. He could tell his friends were spread out around him, almost as if they were protecting him from something – maybe they were blocking the door so no one would see him on the floor. Eventually, a blurry figure appeared in front of him.

“Is he coming to?” a distant voice asked anxiously.

“Yep. See – hey, Bo, you can hear me, right?” Komi asked. His friend was kneeling closest to him, his expression soft yet concerned. “I guess you pushed yourself too hard this time.”

Bokuto’s vision gradually cleared up. He pushed himself up slowly, fighting a wave of dizziness as he scratch his head sheepishly. “Yeah. Looks like it.” He graciously accepted the water bottle Sarukui handed to him. “Thanks.”

“Stay there for a bit. We’ll clean up here,” Konoha told him. He jumped up to his feet and started untying the net from the pole. Washio took his lead to unite the other end, Sarukui joining him a moment later. Komi glanced at him.

“Don’t move, okay? Wait until you recovered.” Komi grabbed the volleyball and stood up to put it away, turning his back when Bokuto nodded in understanding.

He watched them – Washio lowering the net, Konoha and Sarukui unclipping it, Komi taking the roller out for the net. They worked silently, each of them pondering for themselves. Bokuto was usually the one who would make a ruckus – always insisting for one more toss or making a game out of cleaning up. He had done that often during elementary school, occasionally during middle school. It often made his coaches exasperated with him but they only tolerated because of who his dad was. His dad had sponsored both his teams so his coaches had no choice but to tolerate him. He wondered how many allowances he received because of him.

There were two minutes left until the first bell rang. Komi offered him a hand and he pulled himself up, swaying slightly. “I’m fine,” Bokuto said when his friend shot him a look. “I’ll walk it off.”

“You have to tell the nurse you passed out,” Komi reminded him. “That’s what your mom said you have to do, not me.”

Bokuto forgot his mom said that but then again, he couldn’t remember a lot of things his mom said he could and couldn’t do. Komi had always been the one to remind him of his limitations, even now in high school. “I’ll go now. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Hey, you should come after school,” Konoha said. Bokuto glanced over his shoulder at him. “It’s the first day for club activities so the new first-years are coming. I heard we’re getting ten new members.”

“I hope one of them is a setter,” Washio grumbled. There used to be a setter who practiced with them but he transferred schools so the second-years had to make do with rough tosses from Konoha and Komi. Although they occasionally practiced with the third-year setter, he would rather practice with the regulars than them.

The four boys looked up at him, waiting for his answer. Bokuto scratched his head, not wanting to decline but not wanting to stop by either. He rarely turned his friends down but he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to leave practice so easily either. “Maybe. My mom said she wants me home right after school.”

“It’d only take a minute,” Konoha tried arguing but Sarukui cut him off.

“It’s fine. Tell your mom we said hi.” Sarukui smiled at him. “Stop by when you can, okay?”

“I will. See you later.” Bokuto headed out, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He turned the corner, seeing Komi about to follow, but was held back by Washio at the last minute. There was never a time when he walked away after collapsing without his friend at his side. He was glad the rest of them understood why he wanted to go off on his own.

Bokuto took the long way around to head into the main building. He placed a hand tentatively over his heart briefly, feeling his ever rapid heartbeat slowing down to a more comforting rate. It was always racing, whether he was standing still or running around wildly. He had gotten used to it when he was younger so it didn’t bother him. It bothered other people, though. He was just lucky the other second-years didn’t think ill of him. At least, with new first-years, they wouldn’t know anything was wrong with him.

_New first-years, huh,_ Bokuto thought. He had to be honest – he _was_ curious to see them and learn which position they played. There was a rumor going around that Itachiyama’s rejects went to Fukurodani, which was why they were second to them. He only went there because Komi asked him to. He almost chose not to go after getting ridiculed by his dad for his choice. Any other high school would liberate him from volleyball yet he chose against that, in favor of having a friend who knew and understood what his condition was. It would be difficult finding someone else to fill Komi’s shoes.

He owed so much to Komi, yet he had been taking him for granted too much lately. Bokuto let out a breath and entered the building. Maybe he would stop by after school, after all. If that was what would make his friend happy then that was what he should do.


	3. The Toss that Changed Everything

There was something about maps that Akaashi couldn’t understand. They looked simple enough and were relatively self-explanatory but, for whatever reason, he was never able to wrap his mind around them and actually use one to get somewhere. This morning, he had to tail a classmate to reach his classroom and now, he had to rely on vague instructions from his teacher to get to the right gym.

He was confident in his ability to decipher word problems but he couldn’t figure out the instructions for the life of him.

Fukurodani Academy was thrice the size of his middle school. It was a labyrinth of external buildings and gyms, each building housing a different club. Akaashi stood in front of a gym, its sign declaring it was occupied by the gymnastics club. He turned away with a frown before any of the members could notice him and try to recruit him. He tried recalling the instructions once again but he could only summon a jumble of words that made no sense whatsoever.

He glanced at his watch, knowing very well he was going to be late, although in his defense, this was his first time outside the main campus. He let out a sigh, turning to head back the way he came from. At least, by going back to the main building, he could ask someone else to give him coherent instructions. Maybe writing them down would help.

A group of students was walking toward the school gates ahead of him. He noticed a boy trailing behind them, noticeably not part of the group. His jacket spelled out “Fukurodani” in bright gold letters. Akaashi would’ve overlooked him if it wasn’t for the volleyball tucked under his arm. He quickly jogged up to him.

“Excuse me!” the boy turned to look at him over his shoulder. His hair was streaked with white, grey, and black stripes, styled in a bizarre fashion. His golden eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Um, are you a member of the volleyball club?”

“Uh…kind of? Why? Are you…?” the older boy raised a questioning eyebrow. “You signed up?”

“Yes, but I can’t find the gym. I was going to ask for instructions but then I ran into you,” Akaashi explained sheepishly. “He felt embarrassed to admit getting lost despite this being his third day at school. It normally took him about a month for him to be able to find everything on his own. “Do you mind showing me the way, senpai?”

The older boy perked up at being called _senpai._ “I know where everything is at this school,” he boasted. “Follow me. I’ll get you there right on time.” He took off, leaving Akaashi to trail behind him.

The volleyball club occupied three gyms, two of which were empty at the moment, since everyone had gathered in the first gym. The older boy arrived at the door first, calling out, “Captain-san! I found a stray one!”

He entered first, gesturing for Akaashi to follow. Mumbling, “pardon the intrusion”, he crossed the threshold, instantly amazed by the size of the interior. There were three nets set up, piles of bags, jackets, and equipment strewn all over the benches. Akaashi could discern the third and second-years easily – they were the ones wearing their team jackets, arms folded over their chest, expressions stern. The first-years were lined up, all dressed in their school PE uniform, their heights surprisingly consistent. Akaashi quickly placed his bag aside and joined the end of the line as the older boy joined the upperclassmen.

One of the third-years took a step forward and dropped his arms to his side. His eyes darted toward the door before clearing his throat. “Now that you’re all here, we can get on with the introductions. I’m the captain, Hasekura. I’m the ace and wing spiker.

Akaashi had seen him play before on TV. Last year, Fukurodani had qualified for Nationals and their match was broadcasted across the country. Hasekura was in the top ten spikers in the country, his ability to pull off block outs and crosses benefited the team greatly during the more difficult sets.

“I’m Watanabe,” the boy beside him said. He was a few centimeters shorter, his glasses perched at the edge of his nose. “I play setter.”

“Sayuki.” He was the tallest in the line. He raised a hand in greeting. “Middle blocker.”

“And these second-years are on the regular roster this year.” Hasekura took a step to the side to reveal the second-years lined up behind him.

The shortest boy in the line was first to introduce himself. “I’m Komi. I play libero.”

“I’m Konoha.” The tall, lanky boy beside him gave the first-years a nod. “I’m a wing spiker.”

“You can call my Sarukui,” the boy with the casual smile said. “I’m also a wing spiker.”

“I’m Washio,” the tallest boy said. “Middle blocker.”

The last one in line, the one who walked Akaashi here, didn’t say anything. Washio nudged him, prompting him to speak up, but he muttered something in response. Hasekura narrowed his eyes and spoke up. “That’s the regular line-up. First-years, go ahead. Tell us your name and position.”

The boy on the other end spoke first so Akaashi was last by default. There was a disadvantage for a school who attracted powerful players – there was often few setters or liberos. The positions of the other first-years were typical: wing spikers, three middle blockers, and a libero. Akaashi witnessed the exact moment his upperclassmen’s faces light up when it was his turn. “I’m Akaashi Keiji. I play setter.”

There was a brief silence as the third-years exchanged looks with each other, then with the second-years. Hasekura took a step toward him, examining him from head to toe. He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to recall something. “I have this feeling I’ve seen you before. Which middle school did you go to?”

“Yoshioka West Middle School.” His previous school was small and unimpressive, always ranking last in every sport tournament they entered. It was often overshadowed by the larger schools in the area so when its volleyball team started rising, it had shocked the community.

Watanabe snapped his fingers and pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “I remember them. Don’t you? We watched their game last year. They placed top four overall in the tournament.”

Akaashi didn’t flinch when the captain examined him again. “Yeah, it _is_ pretty impressive for a no-name school to rise up to the top four out of nowhere,” he said slowly, “but that wasn’t because of _you_ , was it?”

“Actually, it was,” Sayuki spoke up. “I remember the guys sitting beside us talking about it. They mentioned something along the lines of a genius setter joining, Yoshioka West was strong in those three years. This guy is probably him.”

Hasekura took a step back, blinking thoughtfully. “I need to think about this,” he muttered. In a louder voice, he said, “Second-years, take the first-years out for a run. We’ll start practice after that.”

The second-years let out groans and grumbled complaints under their breaths. Washio was asking jokingly, “Which route should we take them? The half-hour trail or the twenty-minute one?”

“Obviously, you have to go with the forty-minute one,” Komi rebutted with a casual shrug. “It’s just running. They can handle it.”

“Try not to kill them, please,” Hasekura said sternly to them. “We never took our first-years out for forty-minute runs. You should remember – that was just last year.”

“Fine,” Konoha said with a sigh. “The twenty-minute route it is, then.”

The first-years filed out after them, taking turns putting their shoes on. Akaashi was last and he glanced over his shoulder to see the third-years gathering together. For whatever reason, the mysterious second-year had remained behind.

Outdoor runs weren’t his favorite since they didn’t come by often and the routes usually had dozens of turns and loops. He had never memorized a route on his own – he was always in the middle of the pack to avoiding leading or being left behind. The speed of his upperclassmen set wasn’t helping either – he had to focus more on his own pace than the surroundings they were passing.

Fortunately, the second-years slowed down near the end – or so he suspected – so none of the first-years would get lost. As soon as everyone had put their shoes on, Hasekura called for them to gather around him. “Coach is away for the week so the third-years are going to be running practice for now,” he announced. “When he gets back, that’s when the real practices begin. For now, pair up and grab a ball and practice serving.”

Akaashi glanced down at his wrist, forgetting to take his watch off earlier. As he was about to put it away, Hasekura shouted out his name. “Akaashi, right? The setter?”

He turned and nodded, slowly heading toward him when Hasekura gestured him to approach. The captain gestured at the second-years gathering their gear on the other end of the gym. “You’re going to work with those guys,” he told him. “Sync up with them, try to get to know them better. We’ll talk about what happens next after.”

He walked him toward them, nodding sternly at his underclassmen with narrowed eyes. “Don’t bully him,” he warned. “If you guys don’t have a setter next year, it’s not my fault. It’s yours.”

“We’ll try not to,” Washio responded dryly. He waited for Hasekura to stalk away before looking down to acknowledge him. “Akaashi, right? Follow us. We’re going to practice in another gym. It can get rowdy here with all the first-years together.”

“We can finally get proper tosses at last,” Sarukui said excitedly. “It’s been a long time. We don’t have to work with Konoha and Komi’s crappy tosses anymore.”

“At least we gave you tosses!” Konoha and Komi exclaimed. Sarukui laughed, clapping them on their shoulders as he walked by. Akaashi watched their exchange with a frown.

“You’ll get used to it. It may seem awkward at first but you’ll fit right in soon enough,” Washio assured him. “I have a feeling Captain-san is going to assign you to next year’s line-up since you’re the only first-year setter. These last few years had been rough since there isn’t a setter in our year and Watanabe-san had to toss to everyone in the club.” He placed his hand on Akaashi’s shoulder lightly. “We looking forward to working with you.”

“I am as well,” Akaashi replied politely. He was about to reach for his bag when Komi raised his voice unexpectedly.

“Hey, Bo! Are you coming with us or not?” he asked. The mysterious boy raised his head in surprise, his bag swung over his shoulder, not at all looking like he was prepared for practice. “If you’re locked out, you might as well practice with us for a bit.”

“Your mom locked you out again? Is that even allowed?” Konoha asked. He draped an arm around his shoulders. “Stay with us. It’s better than going to the library and not studying.”

“Right,” Washio agreed, Sarukui nodding along. The mysterious boy looked resigned, muttering an affirmation under his breath that only Komi could hear.

“Great! Hey, this guy is Bokuto, by the way,” Komi said to Akaashi. “He’s a wing spiker. We think he might be even better than Captain-san.”

Akaashi turned to him, bowing gratefully. “Thank you for helping me earlier,” he said.

The thanks made Bokuto straighten up, his eyes gleaming. “Oh, don’t worry about it! I’m your senpai, after all!” he said with a laugh. He scratched the back of his head self-consciously. “Always happy to help out a kouhai!”

“Right…Akaashi, you don’t have to call us senpai,” Sarukui told him. “Formalities aren’t too important to us in sports. It honestly makes us feel old.”

“That’s just you, Saru. Quit feeling older than you really are,” Komi said, hitting his shoulder playfully.

 Akaashi was too self-conscious of the fact they were blatantly leaving through the main exit, their presence catching everyone’s attention. He knew he wasn’t special. He was given a different opportunity than the rest because of his position. That was all. Still, he was going to earn a lot of stares next time he practiced with the other first-years.

The second gym was significantly smaller than the first since it only had a stage, equipment room, and a single net that was already set up. The bags were casted to the side, each of them taking their time putting on their pads. When they were ready, Komi rolled the bin of balls to the attack line, ducking under the net to the other side of the court.

“Welcome to the second gym,” Washio said. “This is where we do most of our practicing. In the mornings, the third-years usually coach the first-years and we practice on our own, unless there’s a tournament or practice match coming up. Captain-san told you to try to sync up with each of us, right? Let’s just go one by one before playing a game.”

Akaashi nodded. Komi adjust the pad on his elbow before getting into position. The rest of them lined up behind Sarukui, each of them standing slightly out of line to watch. Akaashi tossed him a ball. “What kind of toss are you comfortable with, Sarukui-san?” he asked.

“Nothing too high or too close to the net, please,” he answered, tossing the volleyball up. Akaashi watched it, raising his hands as it came closer. He watched Sarukui out of the corner of his eye, watching him jump and pull his arm back for the spike. He tossed it to the point where he thought would be best and it was met with Sarukui’s hand propelling it forward. Komi dived but missed it by mere centimeters.

It was a perfect toss on the first try. Sarukui gaped at him for a minute before sticking his hand out. Akaashi gave him a high-five. The rest of the second-years were shocked to silence.

Konoha was next, his specialty being a high toss away from the net. Washio’s contact point was high but Akaashi miscalculated and it hit his forearm instead. Komi was able to receive them with relative ease since he wasn’t taken aback by Akaashi’s skill anymore.

Bokuto was last. He caught the ball Akaashi tossed to him, his kouhai awaiting to be told his preferences. No one had ever asked him before. They always assumed he could hit anything, whether it was low or high or close to the net or far from the net. “A high toss, please,” he said, throwing the ball up. Akaashi raised his hands, eyes focused on the falling object.

The gym felt as if it was holding its breath. Bokuto jumped, clearing the net easily. He pulled his arm back, eyes watching the ball as it left Akaashi’s hands, floating in an arch in front of him. He swung, the ball connecting with his hand with ease. He aimed for a cross, hitting in on the opposite side of the court, leaving no time for Komi to react. It bounced out of bounds and rolled to a stop against the far wall.

He landed on both feet. He looked at his hand, amazed it still remembered how to spike a cross. He looked up at Akaashi, the first-year looking confused. _It was just a spike. Just a cross._ It meant more than that to him. It felt like a sign.

_Komi-san wasn’t lying,_ Akaashi thought. That cross’s angle wasn’t the normal angle any wing spiker would hit it at. It was a cross of someone who was seasoned, practiced. Someone who could be part of the top ten spikers in the country.

Washio was the first one to break out of the spell. “All right. Let’s get started,” he said. “We can play three-on-three so let’s do that.”

He, Akaashi, and Sarukui were on one team, Bokuto, Konoha, and Komi on the other. After a few rounds, they began rotating members so Akaashi could get comfortable with playing with each of them. He kept his observations to himself – Washio led every blocking movement, having had his friends’ habits and strengths memorized. Komi was quick-witted and had lightning reflexes, not ever hesitating for a moment to receive a ball or perform a libero’s toss when needed. Konoha was also capable of tossing from behind the attack line, his tosses high and simple for anyone to hit.

While everyone was starting to work up a sweat, Bokuto wasn’t affected much. His movements were minimal, his spiking form not giving anything away. He let someone else receive so he could go on the offense, his spikes ranging from straights, crosses, feints, and the occasional block out. He called out to his teammates whenever necessary but other than that, he remained quiet.

Akaashi found himself being told what to do than the other way around. In middle school, the setter was usually the captain, the strategist, the playmaker of everything that happened on the court. In this case, he was simply there to toss the ball to a comfortable position for his teammates, act as part of a two-man wall, or be in a position to receive. His receives were sloppy, resulting in his teammates having to cover for him. Fortunately, they all knew how to properly send the ball to someone else, aside from Konoha and Komi, who could perform proper overhand tosses.

The rallies began to stretch out as Akaashi found his rhythm. He still remained wary around his upperclassmen, hesitating only briefly before calling out to them or telling them how they should attack next. He found getting around Washio’s blocks to be challenging, especially if he and Komi were together. Washio was excellent at forcing a ball’s path right toward the libero and the third member was always ready any other surprises. It took Akaashi several rotations but he finally figured it out.

_Washio-san often guards the straight because his teammates are best at them,_ Akaashi thought. Sarukui was serving on the other side, tossing the ball up and jumping for it. _Komi-san stands at the cross because there is no other place for the ball to go. There is always the possibility of a feint or block out but maybe we can do something else instead._

“All right!” Konoha received it, sending it straight toward him. Bokuto started advancing, his movements suggesting a quick. Akaashi raised his hands.

_Bokuto-san is an expert at the cross so Washio-san will have Sarukui-san block with him. That leaves the entire back court for Komi-san to guard._ Akaashi sent it upward as Bokuto jumped, the blockers looming over him. _If there’s no place for a spiker to hit it, then he will have to go with a-_

Bokuto hit the ball lightly, letting it rebound off of Washio’s hand. Konoha ran for it, sending it upwards again overhead. “I got it!”

“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi sent him another toss. Bokuto jumped without hesitation, hitting the ball through the narrow gap between the end line and Washio. It bounced out of bounds after landing in the corner of the court.

The rebound was a technique Akaashi had seen before. It wasn’t always successful but it worked every time the opponent wasn’t expecting it. He raised his head to nod at Bokuto, commending him for his play. He high-fived Konoha when offered a hand before rotating players around. Konoha had used that technique in an earlier rally. If he knew how to do it then the rest of them should be able to as well.

A girl appeared at the doorway holding water bottles, calling out, “Get your water, guys.” The rally ended when Komi caught the ball, signaling it was time for a break.

“Thanks, Yukie. This is Shirofuku Yukie,” Komi said to Akaashi. “She’s our manager. She’s usually with the first and third-years but she’s in our year so we see her a lot.”

“Nice to meet you. Lucky you, joining the second-years on your first day of practice,” she said with a smile. She turned to Bokuto, giving him a questioning look. “And you, on the other hand, I thought you went home. Now I have to go prepare another bottle for you.”

“It’s okay. I have my own. He can have mine.” Akaashi handed him the bottle. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Bokuto accepted it. To Yukie, he responded, “Mom locked me out.”

“Oh. Makes sense. Have fun, guys.” She turned to leave, looking over her shoulder to say, “Captain-san wants to have a meeting at the end of practice so don’t be late in ending.”

“We won’t,” Washio said. Komi waved at her as she headed out,

For the rest of practice, they practiced their serves and blocks. Komi gave Akaashi a quick rundown of the signals they used and Akaashi knew he wasn’t expected to memorize them right away but he felt compelled to write them down. Komi just laughed at him when he said that. “You don’t have to write them down. They’ll come to you naturally, I promise.”

Washio was the one who ended practice and led them through a round of stretches. They didn’t have to put the equipment away since they would be the ones using the gym again tomorrow – it was rare for another club to use it. The second-years started heading out toward the first gym, Akaashi trailing behind since it took him a while to untie his shoelaces.

“Hey, Akaashi?” Bokuto approached him. He raised his head, noticing the peculiar expression on the second-year’s face. He scratched his head self-consciously, embarrassed, or maybe even nervous. “Can you give me some tosses? Please?”

“Tosses? But…Bokuto-san, we have to meet with Hasekura-senpai and the other third-years-“ Akaashi tried to say. Bokuto cut him off.

“I don’t think we have to be there. I’m not exactly part of the team and you’re just a first-year. It’ll only be a few tosses,” Bokuto insisted. “Please?”

Akaashi hesitated. He didn’t want to turn his upperclassman down but he couldn’t help but think this was a bad idea. “All right. Just a few.”

“You’re the best, Akaashi!” Bokuto bounced toward the court, grabbing the bin of balls on his way. Akaashi let out a breath and followed. He probably wouldn’t get into much trouble since there was no way he could say no to an upperclassman. It was pretty common for teammates to stay late to practice more anyway.

Bokuto tossed him a ball and started his approach. Akaashi raised his hands, setting it high, the ball being aimed straight ahead. Neither of them said anything. Bokuto would throw a ball for him, Akaashi would set it, and the ball would land, mostly in-bounds, a few out of bounds. Akaashi made adjustments with every toss, noticing Bokuto’s habits each time. A toss close to the net resulted in crosses. A high toss led to a straight. When he set normal high tosses away from the net, it was usually a straight.

The bin was emptied once, twice. Akaashi couldn’t hear anything else other than what his instincts were telling him. Shoes squeaked against the floor, leather met hands, rubber soles landing solidly. The ball traveled from one set of hands to another, arriving on the other side of the court. All the sounds blended into the background.

That was why it took Akaashi a while to realize what accompanied the landing of court shoes was also the collapse of Bokuto.


	4. The Ghost of the Volleyball Club

Akaashi missed the moment it happened. He had turned to watch the ball once it had left his hands, knowing it would reach Bokuto without trouble. The sound of a spike echoed satisfyingly around them, the collapse blending in with the landing of shoes. It was only the gaping silence that made him realize something was wrong. He turned, eyes widening at the sight of Bokuto sprawled on the floor. His voice was caught in his throat, shock stifling his movements. He took a shaky step forward, mouth agape, catching nothing but air. His stammering voice was interrupted by a louder, curious voice coming from the outside.

“Bo? Akaashi? Are you guys still here…?” Komi appeared at the door, eyes scanning the gym for the pair. He focused immediately on his friend’s unmoving figure by Akaashi’s feet. His expression changed in an instant. “Bo?”

He crossed the gym in several strides, his jacket hanging off of his shoulders. He crouched down to check his friend’s pulse, letting out a breath when he located it. “Just unconscious. That’s good.” He raised his head at Akaashi, his tone quiet when he asked, “What were you guys doing?”

Growing rigid, Akaashi found himself fiddling with his fingers behind his back. He struggled to string a coherent sentence. “He…he kept asking me for tosses…I told him only until we emptied the bin but then, we both lost track of time…and then…he…” he trailed off, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry. I-“

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay. This sort of thing happens to him all the time. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Komi assured him. He glanced down at Bokuto. “You wouldn’t know how long it’s been since he passed out and I got here, do you?”

“Not…very long…less than a minute…I believe,” Akaashi mumbled. Komi was about to say something else when movement caught his attention. Bokuto opened his eyes slowly, a hazy hue swirling in the irises. It took him a moment but he whispered “Komi-yan” when he recognized his friend.

“Bo.” Komi let out a sigh, sounding both resigned and worried. He was used to this sort of thing but there was always a nagging sensation in the back of his head that at some point, things would get out of hand and no one would be there to help him. “You almost scared our kouhai to death.”

“Oh…sorry.” Bokuto sounded sheepish. “I got too excited, that’s all…”

Akaashi opened his mouth to respond but Komi cut him off. “Akaashi, you can go on ahead,” he told him. “Captain-san already finished the meeting so you can grab your stuff and head home. I can take care of things from here.”

“Okay.” There was nothing Akaashi could do other than getting out of their way. “Thank you, Komi-san. I’m sorry I couldn’t-“

“Like I said, it’s not your fault. Don’t lose sleep over it. If you do, Bo can make it up to you.” Komi offered him a smile. “Rest up when you get home. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

He hesitated but at Komi’s wave of his hand, he bowed quickly and retrieved his belongings. He hastily slipped into his shoes and disappeared in an instant, his receding footsteps fading into the background.

Komi turned and punched Bokuto’s shoulder. There was no strength behind it, only exasperation. “I can’t believe you,” he muttered. “I thought you two got lost or something, but _no_ , you were only hogging our setter until you checked out. No one was even worried, not until Captain-san realized you weren’t there.”

“I wasn’t going to die, if that’s what you thought,” Bokuto rasped.

“No, but knowing that you still don’t know your own limits isn’t any better,” Komi retorted. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

Slowly, he helped Bokuto to his feet and then supported him to the bench so he could grab some water and let his vision stabilize before heading out. Komi locked the gym behind them just as the rest of the second-years came by from the first gym. Their kouhai was nowhere in sight.

Konoha slapped Bokuto on the shoulder lightly, causing the other spiker to lose his balance. Konoha caught him by slinging his arm around him before he fell. “Where were you this whole time?” he asked. “Getting our kouhai lost?”

“No.” Bokuto ran his fingers through his messy hair. It was mostly ruined now, resembling something like a nest that got ravaged. “He was giving me tosses but then I collapsed.”

“Oh.” At that, Konoha stepped away, finding himself beside Washio. He tried making an awful joke but the middle blocker wasn’t paying attention to him.

“You were close to passing out this morning too,” Washio said, turning to Bokuto, “and then you actually did just now. Did this ever happen before?”

Bokuto looked away, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Komi had to answer for him. “No.” There wasn’t much Komi didn’t know about his condition and its history. The two of them had been friends since the beginning of middle school – a few months after Bokuto had been diagnosed. It had taken a lot of trust and coaxing on Komi’s part to get Bokuto to tell him the truth.

At the school gates, the second-years went their separate ways: Konoha and Washio heading off together and Sarukui walking with Bokuto and Komi before hurrying toward the train station. The two friends continued on their way to their neighborhood.

Their walk was mostly in silence. The pace was slower than usual, as a result of Bokuto’s collapse. Komi watched him out of the corner of his eye, trying to catch any signs other than fatigue. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary.

“Your mom will be happy,” he remarked. “You went to both practices and had close calls during both of them. That has to be a new record.”

“Komi-yan,” Bokuto said slowly, “if you’re trying to be funny, it’s not working.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to. I was trying to be sarcastic.” Komi didn’t look at him but it was easy to hear the sharp note in his tone. “This is just really unusual for you. I bet today was the most volleyball you’ve played in a day since you ‘quit’.”

Bokuto shook his head, opened his mouth to object, but then closed it. Maybe that was true. He couldn’t remember much of his practices from elementary school, only vague sessions with his dad that involved surviving intense all-day training. Recent memories consisted mostly of his heart feeling like it would burst at any moment.

“Will you be there tomorrow?” Komi asked quietly. “For morning practice?”

His friend didn’t have an answer. He didn’t mind waking up early to practice – he could never mind. He wanted to take advantage of Akaashi and his tosses, to play with his friends, to play without any pressure, to play without restrictions other than his own. However, he couldn’t trust himself to stop when he had to. Komi had always been by his side to watch him, the rest of the second-years included. Despite the promise he made long ago to watch himself, he had yet to follow through with it.

They reached Komi’s house before either of them could say any more. Komi looked at him over his shoulder. “You’re welcome to come any time,” he said. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Bokuto watched him enter, lights flooding through the windows, illuminating the otherwise unoccupied house. He continued on, his house only two blocks further down.

“I’m home.” He was fortunate to be able to come every night with a parent waiting for him. He closed the door, kicked his shoes off, and headed toward the kitchen, finding his mom standing in front of the stove, her back to him. “I’m home, Mom.”

“Oh, welcome back. Go have a shower before you eat.” She didn’t turn to greet him, her attention focused on her pot. “Did Haruki-kun say he’ll come by? I’ve got food for him.”

“He didn’t say anything…he went home.” Bokuto glanced at the closed door at the end of the hallway. He couldn’t tell if the lights were on inside or if a presence was hiding within. “Is Dad home…?”

His mom placed her ladle down to look at him. He had inherited her golden eyes, her hair black and cut short, her bangs held back with bobby pins. “No, he won’t be returning for a few days,” she answered. “He’s staying at a hotel in the city for the tournament. Remember?”

“Yeah…” he headed upstairs without another word. Konoha had mentioned it. Itachiyama and two other schools were representing Tokyo this time around. Fukurodani had been knocked out of the preliminary finals since their team had not been strong enough. Hasekura had sworn to bring the team to the Spring High before he graduated.

Bokuto picked at his dinner while his mom finished washing the dishes. She turned the tap off and sat down across from him, draping her folded arms across the table. “I got a call from Minako-san this morning,” she said. Bokuto tried to hide behind his bowl of rice. “You got pretty close, didn’t you? I can tell you had a rough time after school too.”

There was nothing that could elude his mom. He had thought the hot shower would bring some color back to his cheeks and he could’ve explained his lack of appetite was due to eating out with his friends. She was still a doctor, even though she specialized in animals. When he didn’t say anything, she let out a patient breath. “I won’t stop you from playing but take better care of yourself, okay? You’re a second-year now. You can expect Haruki to babysit you every time.”

“I couldn’t help it,” he blurted. His mom raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “We got a new setter today. Captain-san let him play with us and…I asked him for tosses. He let me have them. We hadn’t had a setter in a year so I couldn’t help but ask.”

She merely looked at him. He shoved rice into his mouth to avoid looking at her. “All right. This is a rare exception, so it seems. That doesn’t explain why you kept going even after pushing your limit. I know you’re aware of where your breaking point is, even if you keep saying you don’t. Remember, Kou-kun, no one is depending on you anymore. You don’t have to force yourself to do more than you can handle.”

His eyes turned downward, a gleam of indiscernible emotion flashing before he focused on the remaining mouthful of rice in his bowl. Before, he _had_ been someone his team could depend on. Now, he acted like a freeloader. His mom removed the bobby pins in her hair and placed them on the table. “In case you forgot, you’ve got a doctor’s appointment after school on Friday. I’ll come by to pick you up so let your teacher know for me.”

“Okay.” He finished the rest of his dinner. He had routine check-ups to ensure his pacemaker was operating normally and check that there weren’t any other complications. His mom had accompanied him to every appointment. His dad had never gone.

“Don’t go just yet.” His mom’s sharp tone stopped him from fleeing the kitchen after putting his dishes in the sink. “Do you need breakfast tomorrow? I’ve got to get an early start at work so if you need me to make you something, just say so.”

He took several cautious steps toward the doorway. He shook his head slowly. “I think I’ll stay in tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“To…to rest. Like you said, I wasn’t doing well after school. I might as well get some more sleep in and recover…right?”

The silence that answered his words told him his mom hadn’t believed his excuse. She didn’t say anything, only standing up to wash the dishes. She was letting him off the hook. He fled the kitchen, knowing better than to stick around.

He fell onto his bed with a sigh. He covered his eyes with his arm, taking a moment to focus on his elevated heartbeat. He sat up and glanced at the walls of his room. Before, they were filled with posters of his favorite volleyball players, photos of his teams and his family, and all of his accomplishments framed and displayed for anyone who stepped inside. Now, they were mostly bare. All of his certificates and trophies had been moved to another room in the house. A few of his posters remained as well as his family photos, but the photos with his teams had been discarded. After his collapse, they had all but turned their backs on him, giving him little support, blaming him for the loss.

A single photo from his first year of high school was hung up though. It depicted him with the other guys, all standing in front of their gym, smiles bright, and eyes gleaming with emotion. His own smile was small yet genuine, a volleyball in his hands. It was the closest photo he had to a team photo, yet he knew he would not have the opportunity to partake in an official one for the rest of his high school years.

He closed his eyes briefly before rolling over to grab his pajamas and head off for a shower.

* * *

 

Bokuto never came around for morning practice. He was occasionally spotted after school speaking with the third-years, joking with the second-years, teasing the first-years, or making his leave after making small talk with his teammates. The coaches never stepped forward to reprimand him for disturbing practice – he was not part of the team, after all. There were days when he would join in, usually to help the third-years or give advice to the first-years. He rarely acknowledged the second-years, including Akaashi, since he was assigned to work with them.

On days when he didn’t show up at all, no one asked questions. It was as if he was a ghost – if he was present, he would be acknowledged, and if he was not, he would be forgotten. Akaashi couldn’t forget him, couldn’t forget the way he played, his attitude toward the sport, or the natural aura of leadership emanating from him. It was intriguing, to the say in the least, and Akaashi found himself yearning to play with him once more.

The end of the week arrived. Akaashi entered the gym, eyes scanning for Bokuto, feeling only slightly disappointed when he could not locate the rowdy second-year. A hand slapped his shoulder lightly from behind and he turned, watching Komi enter. “Hey, Akaashi. Who’re you looking for, anyway?” Komi asked. “You’re always looking like you’re looking for someone.”

“Oh, hello, Komi-san. I’m…looking for Bokuto-san. Is he not part of the team?” Akaashi asked. “I don’t think he’s stayed for all of a practice session before and he’s never here for morning practices.”

“Bo is a special case. He isn’t a member but he likes to come around and play when he can. I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this but…well, it’s related to him passing out earlier this week. It’s hard to explain, so…” Komi scratched the back of his head. “You can ask him if you see him, I guess.”

“Hey, Komi! Akaashi!” Sarukui called out from across the gym. “Get over here!”

“Right!” Komi headed toward the assembled third and second-years, Akaashi following behind him. The first-years were already out for a training session orchestrated by the coaches, leaving them the vast empty gym to converse.

Hasekura was grumbling under his breath as he finished typing a text message, Watanabe and Sayuki watching him in amusement. The captain slipped his phone away when the rest of the second-years gathered. “All right. Where is Bokuto today?”

“Doctor’s appointment,” Komi answered.

“Oh. Well, he’s not part of the team, so he doesn’t have to be here. Next week, we’re going to have a practice match with Shinzen. It’s about time we try out our new team and setter.”

Washio looked surprised. “What about Watanabe-san?”

“I’m afraid I have to retire earlier than planned,” Watanabe admitted. “I’m getting pretty swamped with studying and exams so practice is the last thing on my mind. You’ve gotten used to Akaashi being your setter at this point. You’ll do better with him than with me.”

“Wata _did_ say he’ll give us free check-ups when he becomes a doctor, so we’re going to hold this against him,” Sayuki mused. “You guys too, especially you, Akaashi.”

“You’re studying to be a doctor, Watanabe-san?” Konoha said. “That’s going to be a lot of work.”

“Maybe, but it’ll be worth it,” Watanabe replied. “I owe Hasekura a lot though so I’m still going to be around, helping out. The lack of setters is going to be tough for you guys.”

“And we’re glad for it,” Hasekura said. “For next week, we’ll practice together in the morning in our starting line-up. It won’t be a training weekend – we’ll be done at the end of the day. Any questions, comments, concerns?”

Akaashi raised his hand politely. The second-years watched him out of the corner of their eyes as Hasekura raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, Akaashi?”

“I have a request,” Akaashi said. “I would like Bokuto-san to play in the match as well.”

“Why?”

The first-year bowed his head. “Forgive me if I sound rude, but his skills are more compatible with us than yours and Sayuki-san’s. I understand why the two of you must play – and I am honored to be able to play with you – but Bokuto-san has been playing with the others much longer. We will be able to guarantee victory while he is on the court.”

Hasekura gaped at him for a few seconds. His frown quirked up into a small smirk. “Well, you’ve got a point there. You can’t ask us to sit this one out though – this is the team we’re bringing to the IH. If you’re going to get Bokuto to play, then you’ll need to ask one of your guys to sit out.”

Konoha and Sarukui exchanged looks. They were the two wing spikers of the group so one of them had to step back and let Bokuto take their spot. “I can,” Sarukui said. “Konoha, you need to be there since you’re our team’s balance.”

“Yeah,” Komi agreed. “You’re our jack of all trades, after all.”

“That’s true. We need to have our all-round player on the court. Ultimately, the decision is Bokuto’s so call him up and tell him to come over when he’s done, Komi,” Hasekura said. “Any objections?”

“I object to you guys calling me that stupid name,” Konoha grumbled.

“We’ll leave playing in formation another day. Let’s go for a run.” Hasekura put his phone down and headed out, Watanabe and Sayuki following.

Akaashi bowed at Sarukui, thanking him. “Thank you for letting Bokuto-san play instead, Sarukui-san.”

“It’s no problem, Akaashi. We’ve all tried persuading him to play enough times last year so he might not cave so easily. If you manage to do it, we’ll treat you to ramen.”

“You said it, Saru, not us,” Washio said, raising his hands innocently. The other second-years nodded in agreement and Sarukui merely smiled, promising to treat all of them to ramen if Akaashi was successful. Although the lure of ramen sounded delicious, he had other reasons for asking Bokuto to play with them.

Sometime in the evening, Bokuto had arrived and was helping the third-years. The second-years weren’t informed of his arrival until after practice was over. When the first-years left for the night, the upperclassmen and Akaashi gathered in the first gym.

“All right. So, our first-year here has an interesting proposal. He wants you to play in the practice match next week. You can take Sarukui’s spot.” Hasekura nodded at Bokuto. “What do you say? You want to play with us?”

Bokuto flinched. His friends looked at him, expressions urging him to accept. Akaashi was also looking at him, green eyes narrowed in a polite yet intimidating way. This was unlike the other times he had been invited to play in practice matches. This felt as if he had to, as if they were depending on him. “You don’t need me to play,” he said slowly. “You’ve got Saru. He’s way better than me.”

“Bokuto-san, if you would rather not play, we can’t force you, but I won’t play unless you do,” Akaashi said. The second-years shot looks at him. The third-years gaped at him incredulously. “I understand this is not my position to speak so rudely but I also have a choice in whether I want to play or not. By going with the team’s traditions, a first-year would never be a starting member regardless of position. I am the only setter amongst the first-years but Watanabe-san is still part of the team. He can take my place any time.”

Hasekura stared at him through narrowed eyes. Watanabe said slowly, “His logic is sound. We can’t force him to play and he’s crazy enough to throw away his chance of being a starting member in his first-year.”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, “why don’t you want to play?” his reasons were known to the rest of them but this first-year knew nothing. He did not understand or refused to accept his odd exemption. “When I gave you tosses earlier this week, you spiked them effortlessly. The way you played is akin to national level. We need your strength to win.”

Komi was beginning to feel worried for his friend. Bokuto had his hands stuffed in his pockets, head bowed, eyes downcast, avoiding all of their gazes. He had been very reluctant to explain his health condition to the other second-years, let alone the third-years. He would not want to show weakness in front of a kouhai.

“Bo,” Sarukui said quietly. “Don’t feel pressured to stay on the court all the time. You can switch with me any time. It won’t disturb the rhythm in any way.”

“You aren’t the only spiker we’ve got,” Konoha added. “There’s also me and Captain-san. We can work together to score.”

“Hasekura-san is our ace, not you,” Komi murmured. “To everyone else, you’re just an ordinary player.”

Bokuto was silent. His head shifted in the opposite direction when he mumbled his answer. “Fine.”

“What was that?” Hasekura said. “A yes or a no?”

“Yes. I’ll play.” He repeated it in a louder tone. His expression was pinched. “I’ll play.”

Akaashi bowed his head. “Thank you, Bokuto-san. I look forward to playing with you.”

“We’re expecting you to show up to practice, all right?” Hasekura said. “Komi won’t be the only one to have an eye on you. All of us will, so play and don’t worry about anything.”

He nodded slowly. Komi nudged his shoulder and started leading him away, the rest of the second-years following, each of them shouting a good-bye to their upperclassmen. Akaashi turned to Hasekura and bowed deeply to them. “I’m very sorry for being rude,” he said. “Please punish me any way you deem appropriate.”

“Hey, no need to be so stiff. It’s fine, we’re not that uptight,” Hasekura assured him. “Respect for your upperclassmen is important but we’re teammates now. Don’t talk like that on the court – the ball would fall before you can finish what you want to say.”

“That was pretty impressive of you,” Sayuki added. “None of the second-years managed to get him to play before. This is going to be the first time he’ll be in a match with the rest of us.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why doesn’t Bokuto-san play?” Akaashi asked.

“That’s something you’ll have to ask him yourself. We’re not in any position to tell you something he can do himself.” Hasekura smiled. “I’m looking forward to the practice match now. Let’s win and boost our morale for the IH prelims.”


	5. The First Step

“All right!” Sayuki received the ball, its course headed for Akaashi. He started his approach, Hasekura following a step behind. Akaashi watched them, enraptured by the cohesive partnership the third-years emitted. Their teamwork was different from the second-years, yet it was difficult to explain why. Perhaps it was experience. Perhaps it was confidence. Perhaps it was a combination of both and more.

“Hasekura-san!” Akaashi sent to ball to him, ensuring the toss arched high above them and at a distance away from the net. Hasekura jumped with his arm pulled back, tapping it slightly over the block formed by Washio. Komi dove for it, sliding against the floor as the ball rebounded off his arm. Bokuto quickly sent it to Washio, who jumped and spiked it directly at Sayuki.

“One more time!” Sayuki aimed it toward Akaashi, giving him a small nod before beginning his approach. The setter watched them before jumping, sending the ball over the net himself. None of their opponents caught it in time.

Hasekura whistled loudly. “A dump? You’re pretty bold, first-year.” Akaashi scratched the back of his head self-consciously. “Let’s have one more rotation before we clean up.”

Akaashi joined Konoha and Washio, Komi moving on to join the third-years. Bokuto was rotated out so he joined Sarukui on the bench, nodding gratefully when his friend offered him a water bottle. Hasekura, once everyone was in place, tossed the ball for his serve, sending it over the net with a powerful force. Konoha received it, shouting and cursing when he realized it was off. “Sorry! Cover for me!”

“Right!” Akaashi quickly judged its course, running to where it would approximately land. He raised his hands, sent it toward Washio. “Washio-san!”

The middle blocker jumped for the spike, scowling when Komi saved it. Sayuki swiftly ran into position at the net, wasting no time in sending it to Hasekura. “Hasekura!”

“Akaashi, follow my lead!” Washio glanced over at the first-year as he joined him. “Ready…now!” they jumped in unison, positioned to guard the straight. Akaashi’s block was painstakingly shorter than Washio’s so Hasekura spiked the ball over his head. Fortunately, Konoha had realized this and was present to receive it.

“All right!” he shouted. Akaashi landed, dashing into position immediately. The second-years began their approach, the ball being sent toward Konoha. His straights were deadly and he had a notorious reputation for feints, which made him even more satisfied when he spiked a cross without anyone expecting it.

The ball landed on the court with a resounding _thud._ Konoha pumped his fists triumphantly, high-fiving his teammates. Hasekura grinned when he offered him his hand. “I remember when your first cross got blocked,” he remarked. “It’s nice to see you’re improving.”

“Thanks.” He high-fived him, then glanced over at the quiet owl-haired boy. “Bokuto taught me some things.” He raised his head at his name, smiled slightly, but said nothing else. Konoha turned to Komi with a smug expression. “How’s that, Komi? I can’t be a jack-of-all-trades if I can’t hit a cross!”

“I thought you said you hated that nickname,” Komi grumbled. He crossed the court to give him a high-five anyway.

Hasekura glanced at the wall clock. “Time to clear out. We’ll practice some more after school. Don’t forget that we’re going to talk about our starting line-up afterwards so don’t run home. Remember to stretch before you leave and grab a snack.”

“Right,” his teammates chimed. They dispersed to collect stray balls, rearrange the benches, and gather their own equipment. Hasekura dismissed them after a quick round of stretches, heading out shortly to get to his class. The others followed soon after him.

Akaashi strapped his watch back on and shouldered his backpack, raising his head when he noticed Bokuto heading out on his own. “Bokuto-san,” he called out. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

His upperclassman glanced at him over his shoulder as Akaashi began to approach. “It’s about-“

“Ah, sorry, Akaashi.” Bokuto raised a hand in apology. “I have to head to class now. See you after school!” he took off, jogging down the path that led to the main building. Akaashi watched him with a frown, recalling what the other second-years had said. If they were right about Bokuto telling him the truth himself, they would have to face each other eventually.

Their coaches had returned and resumed their duties in overseeing the first-years’ practice, allowing the second and third-years and Akaashi to continue with their three-on-three matches. For about an hour, one of the coaches came by to observe and gave feedback, but their advice had already been repeated by the third-years. By the end of the evening, Akaashi was able to feel the improvement in the team’s overall compatibility and coherence.

Hasekura rushed them through stretches in favor of beginning their meeting inside the clubroom. Due to its small size, only regulars was allowed to use it, resulting it being a privilege to use the space. Akaashi had not expected he would step foot inside it so soon, but upon examining it, it looked like a typical clubroom. There were designated hooks and shelves for each member, a poster of an idol group in dire need of replacement on the back wall, and plenty of boxes of broken equipment gathering dust as well as volleyballs.

They cleared the floor to gather around Hasekura. He used a Shogi board to write on his whiteboard, his marker squeaking as he drew a makeshift court on it. He opened his mouth to speak, but was promptly interrupted by the door opening. Watanabe slipped inside, joining Sayuki at the edge of the crowd. He nodded in apology, Hasekura merely glaring at him. He carried on with business.

“All right. I already have a rough idea on how we should be positioned, so hear me out first. We can make changes if we need to. First off, Bokuto. You’ll be here.” He wrote Bokuto’s name in the bottom right corner. “You can start us off with a powerful serve if need be. We know your receives suck so I’ll be in the back with you. Komi, you’ll be here.” He wrote Komi’s name in between his own and Bokuto’s.

“Sayuki, you’ll be in the front row first. Akaashi, the second-years taught you the signals, right?” he glanced at the setter, watched him nod. “Sayuki will give you cues for blocks and walk you through what to do. Konoha will support you two and if you’re in a pinch, toss to him. He’s better at getting us out of them than Sayuki. No offense.”

“It’s the truth, unfortunately,” Sayuki responded with a nod.

“So, yeah. That’s what I have. I was also thinking we could throw in some back attacks like this. How well are you at those, Akaashi?”

“I’ve attempted them a few times,” he answered, “but many of them didn’t end well.”

“We’ll practice those, then. Bokuto, how about you? I remember you pulled some off in the past.” Bokuto merely nodded in response. Hasekura knocked on the whiteboard with his knuckles. “If no one has any objections, this’ll be our line-up for the match. Any comments you want to add, Wata? Sarukui?”

Sarukui shook his head but Watanabe was blinking thoughtfully at the board. “It’s a good setup and you have everyone’s weaknesses covered. I’ll have to watch you in action to decide if any changes are necessary. Did you run this by with Coach?”

“Not yet. I will, tomorrow. That’s when we’ll start practicing in this formation. Does anyone else have anything to add? If not, we’ll continue practicing tomorrow.” Hasekura pushed the Shogi board aside, leaving the whiteboard on top of it. He noticed the frown on Akaashi’s face out of the corner of his eye. “You have something to add, Akaashi?”

The rest of the team turned to look at him. Akaashi dropped his hand from his chin to face Bokuto. “Bokuto-san,” he said, “I would like to know the reason why you stopped playing volleyball. Komi-san told me you have a health problem and it’ll benefit me to know what it is. I understand if you don’t feel comfortable telling me now, but I would appreciate it if you could tell me before our practice match.”

All eyes slowly turned to face Bokuto. He kept his eyes focused on the floor, hands curled into fists on his lap. It had taken the second-years several weeks to coax the truth out of him and Hasekura still didn’t know what exactly that prevented him from playing. If there were any better opportunity for him to explain his condition fully, it would be now.

He slowly picked himself off the floor, shouldered his bag, and promptly headed for the door. Komi jumped to his feet. “Bo!” he exclaimed. “Don’t just walk away!”

Bokuto paused in front of the door. He glanced at them over his shoulder. “You can tell them,” he mumbled. “Akaashi said I can tell him another day, so I will. I have to go now. See you tomorrow.” He closed the door gently behind him, his scuffing of shoes fading into the background.

Komi stared at the door for several moments longer before sinking back down, sighing and shaking his head. He avoided his teams’ eyes when he spoke, his words soft and quiet. “He never told me what it was called. He didn’t give me much to go on with, actually…but I know he has a heart condition. His heart can get out of hand easily and it’s how he passes out often. He has a pacemaker to help control it, help it beat properly, but if he isn’t careful, it’ll still cause him to pass out.”

The other second-years nodded in confirmation. Hasekura folded his arms against his chest, remarking, “I thought it was just asthma, not a heart condition. So, it just limits how much he can play, right? What else?”

“Well, Bo is stubborn, so the most important thing is watching him and forcing him to stop before he overexerts himself. He never told me any other factors that might affect him.” Komi shrugged. “Plus, when we played in middle school, the others on the team relied on him a lot. He wasn’t the ace or the captain…just a normal wing spiker. They thought, since he’s the son of a former Olympian, he’d be invincible. It gave him a lot of pressure.”

Hasekura nodded. “I can understand how he feels, now that you mention his dad. Imagine having a son you can’t raise to succeed you. There has to be a lot of pressure and guilt on both of them, but more so on Bokuto. We’ll drill it in his head, Komi. We’re a team. He can spike when he wants to, hang back when he wants to, or take a break when he needs it. We’ll support him.”

“Thank you, Captain-san.” Komi felt his voice catch in his throat. He cleared it loudly, raised his head to give them a feeble grin. “Thank you to you too, Akaashi. None of us were able to get him to play with us in a match. You managed to make it work.”

“I hope Bokuto-san will feel the same way,” Akaashi responded. His reasoning was sound and his intentions were the same as the others. If Bokuto felt the same then they would have an undefeatable team.

* * *

 

In the days leading up to the practice match against Shinzen, Akaashi practiced alongside his upperclassmen in the formation Hasekura had devised. Sarukui and Watanabe assisted whenever possible, by either tossing balls, spiking, or gathering equipment. The formation was approved by their coaches and Watanabe was unable to discern any problems within it. Sarukui often rotated with Bokuto so the team could practice the transition if it was needed. Bokuto himself missed three morning practices because of exhaustion and no one was able to reprimand him.

The final practice before the match brought determination in everyone’s eyes. Akaashi could feel his tosses were becoming more accurate each time, as if his body had finally adjusted to the rhythms of his new teammates. He was especially impressed with the team’s dynamic and how each member contributed to the team’s overall style of play. Not to mention, they were all skilled in everything – receiving, spiking, blocking, and tossing for some of them. The third-years weren’t the only ones who gave instructions and they encouraged the others to voice their hunches and plays. Hasekura had to reassure Akaashi multiple times that as their setter, he could tell them what to do. A missed point wouldn’t hurt them, he liked to say. If it contributed to the overall game, then they could handle a few of those.

“All right! Make sure you rest up properly tonight,” Hasekura advised once they finished cleaning up. “Eat a good meal and sleep early. We’ll see you tomorrow in front of the clubroom.”

“Right! Good work!” the members took off altogether, gradually breaking off into pairs and threes. Akaashi trailed behind them, eyes focused on the path beneath him. He felt a hand tap his shoulder and he raised his head, meeting his captain’s face.

“Something wrong?” he asked. “Nervous for tomorrow?”

Akaashi shook his head. “No…a little.”

“Don’t be. It’s only for practice. No matter the result, this is probably going to be the team that’ll be going to the IH.” The captain raised his head, focused his gaze on the second-years. “There aren’t many first-years that’ve stood out, but they’ll improve and you’ll find others to replace Sayuki and me. The second-years are great, though – you’re lucky to be their setter.”

“I feel fortunate to be your setter, Hasekura-san,” Akaashi responded humbly. “As part of Japan’s top ten spikers, it is an honor for me to be on the same team as you.”

Hasekura chuckled. “No one pays attention to the latter five of the top ten. I’m surprised you even knew that.”

“Fukurodani usually has one or two spikes part of the top ten, or so I’ve heard.”

“That’s right. The previous ace barely missed the top five, and now it’s just me. There’s someone else capable of making it to the top three, if we give him the right support.”

“Ah.” Akaashi froze. He finally remembered what had slipped his mind. “I’m sorry, Hasekura-san, but I left something in the clubroom. I have to go back to get it.”

“Oh, is that so? Here.” Hasekura reached for his keys, quickly unlooping his copy of the clubroom key. “If you’re early tomorrow, you can open the clubroom for me. The others have the key too, so it’s okay. Don’t stay out for too long, you hear?”

Akaashi nodded. “I won’t. Thank you, Hasekura-san. Good night.” He whirled around and jogged back to the clubroom complex, following the path illuminated by lamps. He could hear shouts from the cleaning staff in the distance, spotted silhouettes of other students leaving their clubrooms, and recognized a few of the first-years leaving the gym. He felt a wave of gratitude to have been fortunate enough to be the only setter among the other first-years. It allowed him the opportunity of a lifetime as well as a privilege some never experience in their high school volleyball careers.

The light in the clubroom was still on. Akaashi frowned, recalling Konoha had indeed switched them off when they left. He reached for the doorknob and turned it, realizing it was unlocked. As he was about to push it open, he froze, hearing faint sounds from within. He focused, realizing they were faint sobs. He opened it and stepped inside.

Bokuto was hunched over, face buried in his knees, hands crumpling his jacket, tears staining the fabric and trailing to the floor. His shoulders shook with each sob, his breaths quick and shallow. Akaashi dropped his bag with a thud and stepped forward. “Bokuto-san.”

The owl-haired spiker raised his head in alarm. His eyes were red and puffy, nose streaming. “A-Akaashi…?” he did his best to keep his voice steady, but was ultimately unable to stop the stammer that resulted from his crying. “What…why…why are you…?”

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi approached him and crouched beside him. “Didn’t you leave early? Why did you come back?”

“I…I f-forgot my…my jacket.” Bokuto drew in a shaky breath. The tears had stopped temporarily, but the way his chest rose gave Akaashi a sense of unease. “S-so I came back to…to get it…but then…” he trailed off, buried his chin deeper into his tear-stained jacket.

“Bokuto-san. Are you nervous for tomorrow?”

“N…no.” He glanced at Akaashi, noticing the spark of doubt in his eyes. He turned away. “Y-yes.”

“Why are you nervous?”

“It’s just…wh-what if we lose? It’d be my fault. I-I can’t play like the others…they’re all counting on me. I-I can’t let them down. We have to win. I have to win…I-“

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi said his name sharply in hopes of interrupting his hyperventilating. “Calm down, please. Take a deep breath.” He sat down, their shoulders barely touching each other’s. “Follow my count, okay? Inhale…and exhale…inhale…and exhale…just like that.”

The noisy breaths gradually reduced to deep, controlled intakes. Akaashi slowly pried the jacket from Bokuto’s iron grip to allow it to dry on the floor. The golden letters that spelled their school name stared back at them, reminding Akaashi of his future jacket. Hasekura had told him he would receive one later. He opened his mouth to speak, but Bokuto beat him to it.

“It’s embarrassing,” he murmured. “The son of Bokuto Takeshi can’t play volleyball. My dad trained me since I was a kid. He coached all my teams and made us powerhouses. Then, during my last year of elementary school, we made it to the finals of the prelims. They tossed to me every time, even when I kept getting blocked. I couldn’t keep up, so I…passed out.”

He tightened his arms around his knees. “I have a heart condition. The doctors put a pacemaker inside me to help it beat. Sometimes – most of the time – when I’m not careful, it can beat too fast and I end up passing out. It isn’t so bad…I heard other people like me pass out when their phone rings. That doesn’t really happen to me…but, who knows? It could get worse and I wouldn’t know.”

Akaashi remained silent, allowing Bokuto to continue on.

“I quit volleyball in middle school…I wasn’t going to play at all, but then I met Komi-yan. He joined the team in our first year, told me they needed a spiker after the third-years retired. I joined because I wanted to help him out. Some part…some part of me thought this would be different. It wasn’t. They blamed me for losing when we got to the semi-finals.” His voice dipped down to a low tone. “I quit and swore to never play again…but I can’t.”

“It’s because you love volleyball.”

Bokuto nodded. “I love it. Even though it brings back painful memories…even though it’s why my dad hates me…I still want to play. I’m just…scared. I don’t want to be the reason why we lose. If I really am just going to bring everyone down, then I don’t want to play anymore.”

“Bokuto-san. Look at me.” He raised his head, did his best not to flinch at the intensity the first-year setter was radiating. “Your teammates in the past were wrong to blame you. You did nothing wrong. They did not support you nor accept the loss as their own. They must have not understood the severity of your condition-“

“I didn’t tell them,” Bokuto admitted. “I was scared. I didn’t want to feel special. I just wanted to play like normal.”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you had told them. They shouldn’t have blamed you alone when they were to blame as well. Bokuto-san, you might not have told _us_ , but we’re your teammates. We will support you and in turn, you will support us. There are six of us on the court at all times. If one of us fall, the others will support them. We share the loss or victory. That is why volleyball is a team sport.”

Bokuto gaped at him. “Akaashi…” a new wave of tears began to stream down his face. “Thank you.”

“Please don’t decide the match for us, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi slowly rose to his feet. He offered him a hand. “Let’s go home so we can do our best for tomorrow’s match.”

“…Okay.” Bokuto sniffled loudly, wiped his eyes with the back of his hands. He accepted Akaashi’s hand, used it to pull himself up. He swiped his jacket up and pulled it on, shouldering his bag after. He shuffled out of the room first while Akaashi stuffed the folder he had left behind before following, turning the lights off and locking the door behind him.

* * *

 

Shinzen High School was in the neighboring prefecture and the boys lucked out in being able to use the school’s bus to drive them there. Their coach was content to drive in peace, Yukie reading her book, both of them thankful the boys were occupied with other things, like cards. A few of them were asleep, as if regaining the lost hours from the night before.

Bokuto snored as he slept, arms folded against his chest. The volleyball he was hugging earlier bounced off the seat and rolled toward Akaashi, bumping against his ankle. It rolled off again when the bus turned, heading toward Komi. He picked it up and started tossing it in the air until Konoha snatched it.

“Where did this come from?” he asked, examining it. “Was it from the gym?”

“Bo brought it,” Komi answered.

“Why?” Konoha found Bokuto’s initials on one side. It looked more like an autograph than a simple way to mark an item.

He shrugged. “Ask him yourself.” He glanced over at his friend, thankful he was still sound asleep. When he came over in the morning to pick him up, Bokuto’s mom told him he was up half the night, too nervous to sleep. Fortunately, his habit of sleeping during car rides never went away and he passed out minutes within sitting down.

“Maybe it’s a good luck charm,” Sarukui suggested, holding his hand out. Konoha tossed it for him to examine. He frowned when he noticed the initials. “Or, maybe not. Why would Bokuto bring a volleyball with his dad’s autograph on it?”

“I’m pretty sure all the volleyballs in his house has his autograph on them,” Komi responded dryly. “That’s just the kind of guy he is.”

Washio leaned forward. “Hey, Komi, how well does Shinzen play? Are they going to be tough?”

“Not really,” the libero replied. “They’re just crazy when it comes to attacks, especially their synchronized attack. The third-years played against them enough times to be able to shut them out a few times, but it’s still a pain. Sayuki-san will probably give you cues on how to block the right person.”

The bus rolled to a halt in front of the school, the doors opening for them. Yukie jumped out first, followed by the second-years and then third-years. Bokuto emerged last, rubbing sleep out of his eye, Akaashi trailing behind him. “I’ll go park this in the parking lot,” the coach told Hasekura. “Don’t get them lost on the way to the gym, all right?”

“Thanks for the concern, Coach, but this isn’t my first time here,” Hasekura replied dryly as the bus pulled away slowly. He turned to his team. “Let’s get going.”

The Shinzen team were already practicing when Hasekura arrived. Both captains called for their teams to line up and greet each other. “Let’s have a good game!” they chimed in unison. The third-years broke off to slap each other’s backs and shoulders, the second-years standing awkwardly when faced against their upperclassmen’s comradery. Only Komi was a regular last year, but he was still unfamiliar with the other members of Shinzen.

Akaashi stood at the net to send tosses to his team during warm-up, the Shinzen boys turning around to watch them. Every spike echoed within the gym, showing off each player’s power. Bokuto jumped and spiked almost unconsciously, only becoming aware of his surroundings when Konoha slapped his shoulder. “Look up,” he advised, pointing toward the ceiling. “You can’t catch anything if you look down.”

Bokuto merely blinked at him before nodding slowly, confusedly. Yukie called for them to don their bibs and she handed them out. Hasekura shouted “Line up!” shortly after.

The captain stood at one end of the line with the number four – at Fukurodani, the ace was always number four, regardless if he was captain or not. Sayuki stood beside him with the number one, Bokuto with number two, and the others after him, Komi on the opposite end of the line. Their coach stood to the side with Sarukui, Yukie at the scoreboard. The referee blew his whistle, gesturing for the teams to bow.

“Let’s have a good game!”

Bokuto drew in a deep breath, released it slowly. He stepped onto the court in his assigned spot, the rest of his team doing the same. The visiting team had the first serve and the ball was thrown toward him. He picked it up and moved backwards to create enough space for his run-up. He spun the ball, tossed it a few times, grasped it tightly as he anticipated the whistle blow. When it went off, he could only hear his own heart beat erratically. With another breath, he felt it slow, felt his nerves calm.

He tossed the ball, stepped into his run-up, and jumped.


	6. The Declaration

“I’m home…” Bokuto locked the door behind him, quietly putting his shoes away and slipping his feet into his slippers. He heard the low hum of the TV as well as a familiar snore. He ducked his head into the living room, seeing his mom asleep on the couch, a magazine abandoned on the floor. He smiled to himself and began to slip away just as she blinked her eyes open, a yawn escaping her. Their eyes met, her drowsy expression contrasting his pleasant one.

“Kou-kun. Welcome back.” She motioned for him to sit and he placed his bag down on the floor to join her. Their eyes focused on the TV screen rather than each other. “How did the match go? You won, didn’t you? I can tell.”

He nodded. Memories flooded through him, the sensations from the matches coursing through him. He made a fist with his right hand, surprised by his own strength. “Yup. We won four sets in a row.”

“Don’t tell me you played through all four sets.”

“Saru switched with me for two sets. Akaashi – he’s our new setter – only tossed me the ball whenever I was in the front. Even then, he’d just toss to Captain-san so I mostly received the ball and helped block. I didn’t do much.”

“Don’t say that. I’m sure you scored as many points as you did blocking or receiving. Balancing everything out is the most important thing in volleyball.” She retrieved the magazine from the floor, started flipping through it absently. “You aren’t hungry, are you? Too bad or I would’ve cooked up a storm.”

“You can still do that tomorrow! I’ll bring Komi-yan over so he can help eat it. He really misses your tempura,” Bokuto added.

His mom smiled, shoved him on the shoulder playfully. “All right, if you say so. Don’t be out too late tomorrow, then. Come straight home after practice and don’t leave Haruki-kun behind either.”

“I won’t forget,” he promised. He stood up to grab his bag, slippers sliding against the floor. Before he could head up the stairs, his mom called out to him.

“Oh, speaking of forgetting,” she said, “your father will be coming home tomorrow.”

He froze at the mention of his dad. “Dad? Why?”

“What do you mean, why? The tournament is over. Itachiyama was defeated today. They’re spending the night at the hotel and then coming back tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Bokuto lowered his head. “Maybe I’ll bring Komi-yan over some other time. I don’t want Dad yelling at home or anything.”

“Kou-kun, he wouldn’t yell at him or you. I think he’d be happy about your match today, if you tell him about it.”

“No, I don’t think Komi-yan wants to see him either. Sorry, Mom. I’m going to go shower.” He headed up the stairs without another word.

He turned the lights on in his room before flopping onto his bed. He let out a sigh against his blanket, rolling over to face the ceiling. The match had felt so different compared to his previous ones – the toss had rarely gone to him, the others told him what to do, and the ball headed for his teammates more often than him. There were some sets where he just stood there, watching the ball. He couldn’t even say he didn’t touch the ball at all because he did – he spiked, he received, he blocked, he served. Majority of his spikes had gone through and whenever they were caught, someone was there to save it. His serves always went through because of his upbringing and his receives weren’t too shabby. When he switched with Sarukui, it barely affected the team and Sarukui integrated quickly. Their rhythm wasn’t disturbed in any way, allowing them to claim victory.

If his dad had seen him play, he would spend the entire night lecturing him about the things he should’ve done. Bokuto closed his eyes, wrestled briefly with his blanket to untangle himself, and picked himself up to head to the shower.

* * *

The boys stretched idly across the gym floor, cool wind flowing inside from the opened doors. The net swayed, several volleyballs rolled to a new location, and the odd leaf drifted toward them. Hasekura glanced at the clock, heaved a sigh. “Let’s get started. We can have the meeting later, or whenever Bokuto shows up.”

Akaashi picked himself off the ground slowly. The second-years kept glancing over at the doors, as if they were expecting the rowdy second-year to appear from thin air. Komi checked his phone once more before joining them, hiding it among the pile of jackets and blazers.

They did not have practice yesterday so the boys could rest after the practice match. It was difficult to believe something could’ve happened to Bokuto within that time period – he had been ecstatic about their victory all throughout dinner and the walk home. When he was in a good mood, rarely anything could spoil it, thus the reason why the others were concerned.

At the end of practice, Komi checked his phone again, his breath catching in his throat when he saw he had a text message. He quickly opened it, scanned its contents. “Bo is okay,” he announced. “He just overslept.”

“There’s nothing wrong, right?” Hasekura inquired. “Is he tired or anything?”

Komi replied to it with the questions. Bokuto responded a minute after. “No, he just didn’t hear his alarm clock. His mom is surprised about that too.”

“That doesn’t sound like him,” Konoha remarked. “He’s usually up and about every morning, unless something happened.”

At those words, Akaashi remembered last night’s news reports. “His father must be back.”

“Come again?” Komi frowned. His eyes widened a moment later. “Oh, yeah! Itachiyama was defeated yesterday in the tournament. His dad should be home then…oh, maybe that’s why. The first day is usually tough for him, but he always come around afterwards. He didn’t say he’s missing after school practice, so we’ll see him then.”

Sure enough, Bokuto arrived after school, expression sheepish. “Sorry about this morning,” he said apologetically, scratching the back of his head self-consciously. “It was just like what I told Komi-yan – I didn’t hear my alarm this morning.”

“Are you sure?” Hasekura pressed.

“Yeah. I swear, Captain-san.”

Hasekura stared at him for another moment before turning away with a sigh. “If you say so. Before we start practice, then, I want to talk about the practice match. Let’s go to the second gym and talk.”

They gathered in a circle, a stray volleyball being rolled around between them. Hasekura took his phone out to open the message he received from Watanabe. The setter had arrived late but his purpose was to watch the match and point out any weak areas. He sent Hasekura a long text explaining what they were.

“Our line-up wasn’t bad at all and there are skills we need to practice more,” he began. “Receives, for one, can improve, as well as serves. All of you have a decent jump serve, Akaashi excluded, so I hope you guys will learn how to put more power into them. Bokuto can help with that, right?” Bokuto nodded wordlessly. “The blocks were great – Washio, you’ve got good senses and calls. There’s not much I can say about you, Sayuki.”

“I hope not. You know all my problems already,” Sayuki replied.

“Wata also noticed that most of our attacks came from our left side and center. He did a good job of counting all our spikes – I had the most, naturally, Konoha second, and Bokuto last. Akaashi, you can rely on our center more as well. Washio and Sayuki are tall so they can pass most blocks. They might be lacking power, but they’re reliable when you’re in a pinch.”

“I will remember that for next time,” Akaashi promised.

“Bokuto? How did you feel during the match?” Hasekura turned to him. “You think we can use you more or what we did during the match was enough for you?”

The ball rolled toward him and Bokuto picked it up in his hands. He tossed it in the air a few times as he formed his response. “I think I can hit the ball a few more times,” he answered slowly. “I mean, I didn’t feel too tired or anything and spiking is all I can really do, so…”

“Okay then. Akaashi, you’ll keep that in mind?” the setter nodded when Hasekura glanced at him. “I’m working with Coach to arrange one more practice match before the preliminaries next month. Wata thinks our line-up is fine as it is but I want to try to move us around and see how it goes. So, Bokuto, one more question for you – will you play in this practice match?”

He pressed his lips tightly together, remaining silent. Hasekura never took his eyes off him. “I’m serious when I say this, Bokuto. I want you to come to the IH with us. I don’t know what happened between the practice match and now to make you so sullen, but your enthusiasm was real. It was infectious. I never felt so pumped against an opponent in a long time. We need you. We’ll gladly accept you on our team.”

Komi was nodding in agreement. “Yeah, Bo. We’ll support you. So long you’re having fun that’s all that matters, right?”

The other second-years began to chime in, adding their own bits of encouragement. Bokuto held the ball tightly in his hands, wishing he could agree and play with them. If only it were that simple. He opened his mouth to speak but Akaashi cut him off.

“Bokuto-san, you are not your father,” he said. His upperclassmen fell silent upon hearing what he had said. “You do not have to play just to win. You can play for yourself, for your team. Winning is just one outcome of the match. Losing won’t hurt anyone. You have nothing to prove, so why don’t you use your skills to help your friends?”

All eyes drifted to Bokuto as they anticipated his response. The owl-haired spiker raised his head slowly, golden eyes gleaming resolutely. “Okay,” he said, the word coming out breathlessly. “I’ll play. I’ll play in the IH with you guys too.”

“Bo!” Komi swung his arm around him in a lopsided hug, his grin illuminating his face. “You mean it? You really mean it?”

“Yeah, Komi-yan,” Bokuto replied, a smile touching his lips. “I’ll play. I really mean it.”

Hasekura clapped his hands together, an excited expression seizing his face. “All right, now this is what I want. Let’s start practice then – Bokuto, you can take a break whenever you need it. Come on! We’ve got a lot of work to do!”

* * *

The end of the week came, including Bokuto’s doctor’s appointment. He wasn’t due back for another six months but since he made the decision to play in the Inter-High, he needed to be checked to ensure he could indeed participate. When all the tests came back negative and no abnormalities were found, the doctor granted him permission to play.

“You still don’t look excited, Kou-kun,” his mom commented once they climbed into the car. He tossed his bag in the trunk before climbing into the passenger seat, wordlessly clicking his seatbelt into place. “Is there another problem?”

He shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Just…nerves. I guess.”

“I thought you never got nervous. Even during your elementary schools, you were calm and collected. Like you said, you aren’t the ace so there’s no reason for you to be so nervous. All you need to do is support your teammates and help them out the best you can.”

“I know, Mom, but it’s the IH. If we lose once, we’re eliminated from the tournament. This might be our upperclassmen’s last tournament, so we should win and go to Nationals for them. They couldn’t go last year so they have to make it this year.”

“True, but you aren’t the only one helping them go to Nationals. You have an entire team backing you up.” She glanced at him. “So, who’s the team you’ll be having the practice match against?”

Bokuto shrugged. “Captain-san didn’t say yet. I bet it’d be Nekoma but it could be any school nearby.”

“Good luck against your opponent, then, whoever they might be.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

When they arrived home, the lights were already on. Bokuto stopped cold in the driveway when he realized what that meant. His mom glanced at him over her shoulder, raising a questioning eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“Mom…the lights are on.”

“Well, yes. That means your dad is home.” She blinked, realizing what she said a moment later. “Kou-kun, you have to talk to him eventually. Staying away from him won’t do you any good. There’s nothing to be afraid of-“

The door flew open, revealing Bokuto Takeshi standing at the doorway. He was a lean, tall man with impressive muscles shaping his body. He had been Japan’s top wing spiker during his professional days, narrowly missing the top record for most spikes before his retirement in Japan. He nodded a greeting to his wife, raised his head when he noticed his son. He merely glowered at him before turning around. “I started on dinner,” he said, tone aloof and low. “We’re having fish tonight.”

He stalked back inside, disappearing into the kitchen. Bokuto’s mom followed after him with her grocery bags, Bokuto bringing up the rear. He wished he had eaten more beforehand so he wouldn’t have to sit through dinner under his dad’s gaze. If only he had a microwave in his room so he could eat instant ramen later on.

Dinner was in absolute silence. The three family members ate their portions wordlessly, eyes focused on the food in front of him. His mom, usually so talkative, was unusually subdued. His dad, always a threatening presence, leered at him, as if waiting for him to mess up. Bokuto kept his head bowed, did his best to eat as fast as he could.

His dad placed his chopsticks down gently. In the silence, it sounded like a fist pounding against the table. Both Bokuto and his mom raised their heads slightly. “I saw the starting line-up for Fukurodani,” he said slowly. “Your name was there.”

“Oh…uh…yeah.” Bokuto had forgotten they had submitted their team photo and information earlier in the week so it could be recorded in the official tournament handbook.

“You said you quit and yet you’re still playing.” His dad took a sip of his soup. “Aren’t you just going to burden them?”

“Hold on-“ his mom tried arguing, but he swept on.

“Koutarou, if your only reason for playing is to prove a point then you should withdraw now. You aren’t going to benefit anyone but your own selfish desire. You’re only going to bring them down, ruin the Fukurodani name. If you said you’ve quit, quit for real. Don’t involve anyone else.”

Bokuto said nothing. His dad finished the rest of his soup and stacked his dishes. “Even with you on the roster, the overall power Fukurodani has will not increase. It’ll only decrease. You’ll ruin the team’s chances of making it to Nationals. Quit while you can, Koutarou.”

Dishes clashed when Bokuto stood up, slamming his hands onto the table. His mom jumped in surprise, his dad narrowing his eyes at him. “We won’t lose so easily,” he said, voice low and raspy. “Our ace is part of the top ten spikers in Japan. Our middle blockers are skilled. Our wing spikers are just as powerful. Our setter is a genius. And our libero? Everyone can rely on him. Sure, I might be a burden, and yeah, I’ll probably drag the team down, but you know what? If one of us goes down, the rest of us will support them. If we lose, we all lose. Together. It’s never one person’s fault – it’s everyone’s. So…all that crap about me ruining the Fukurodani name…I won’t ruin it. It’s _your_ name you don’t want me to ruin.”

His dad tightened his grip around his dishes. “Koutarou-“

“It wasn’t my fault I have a heart condition!” Bokuto shouted. “It’s hereditary. You should’ve known I could’ve gotten it. If you knew, why did you teach me volleyball in the first place? You didn’t have to! If you didn’t, none of this would be a problem. You’d still be the legendary Bokuto Takeshi, not Bokuto Takeshi with a son who has a heart condition. I could’ve just been a normal kid, a kid who plays volleyball normally, a kid who could do whatever he wanted, not feel trapped by who his dad is. I…I wanted to quit. So many times. But I could never quit for real because there was always something pulling me back to volleyball. Now that I want to play again…now that I know my own limits and have a team who supports me…you want me to quit? Just so I won’t embarrass you? Like hell I will. I’m going to do what I want. You can’t stop me.”

Silence answered his words. His dad opened his mouth, then thought better of it. He curled his lip, placed his dishes in the sink, and stalked out. The door slammed rang resolutely throughout the house, photo frames quaking as a result. Bokuto sank back into his chair, did his best to suppress his racing pulse. His mom murmured, “Are you okay?”

He drew in a breath, exhaled slowly. He nodded. “Yeah. Sorry, Mom…I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s all right. I…I’ll talk to your dad. I just…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Kou-kun, when the prelims begin, I hope you’ll stay true to your word. Know your limit and trust your team. Don’t think you have something to prove by exhausting yourself. Please…be safe.”

“I will. Thanks, Mom.” Bokuto glanced down at his half-eaten bowl of rice. “Dad’ll just wait and see. I’ll show him.”


	7. The Greeting

Akaashi woke minutes before his alarm, silencing it on the first ring. He yawned, unable to stop himself, blinking to gather his bearings within his dim-lit room. The sky was still dark outside and several cars were already zooming down the street, casting shadows on the sidewalk whenever they passed a streetlight. He checked his phone, noting the lack of messages, although he did received several last night from his former teammates wishing him luck. He stood up and switched the light on, his eyes landing on his desk. Its surface was covered in papers and upon closer inspection, it was his notes describing a variety of strategies and plays that had flowed through his mind. He gathered them in a pile and slipped them into a folder – he would bring them to Hasekura later on.

No one else was awake when he ventured downstairs. He switched the kitchen light on as he opened the refrigerator to rummage for ingredients to cook with. He jumped when a drowsy voice sounded behind him. "Morning, Keiji."

He whirled around, bowing slightly to greet his mom. "Good morning, Mother." A bathrobe was thrown over her crooked pajamas, slippers at her feet. They shared the same eyes and hair, although hers was long and untamable.

"I'll cook for you. Today is the first day of the preliminaries, right? You should save your energy for your games." She gestured for him to step aside and he obeyed. She started plucking a variety of vegetables and containers from the shelves. "It's my job to make sure you're all fueled up."

"Thank you, Mother, but I feel too restless to sit still," Akaashi confessed. "I would rather be helpful than idle."

She smiled, reaching forward to ruffle the top of his head. "All right, I'll cook for you and you can cook for me. How does that sound?"

It sounded marvelous. He helped transfer the ingredients to the counter and within minutes, the duo were immersed in their own world of cooking and conversation. Akaashi did not spend much time with his mother – her late-night shifts did not match his own schedule. When he tried insisting on greeting her home, she told him to put his own schoolwork first and not to not worry about her. These instances did not come easily and Akaashi knew he should treasure every moment.

Within the Bokuto household, however, the atmosphere was tense. Bokuto Takeshi had departed at the crack of dawn with nothing but a piece of toast in his hand. His exit startled Bokuto from his restless, dreamless sleep and he caught his dad's car driving onto the road when he looked out the window. He pulled the curtains shut and stumbled back into bed, but he was unable to fall back asleep. He tossed and turned before surrendering, dragging his feet to the washroom. A cold shower should be able to wake him up.

He caught his reflection in the mirror on his way out. His golden eyes were dulled with exhaustion, dark circles shadowing them. He drew in a sharp breath, closing his eyes as he rested against the wall. He was shaking – was he cold? Why did his face feel so hot? His heart was scaring him – he always lied about how he was used to its sudden acceleration. He tried calming himself down but it wouldn't work. Why didn't it work? What was wrong with him?

A knock snapped him back to the present. "Kou-kun?" his mom's voice was soft. "Are you awake? It's early, even for you."

"I-I couldn't sleep," he stammered. "Dad…I heard him leave a-and…"

There was a pause. His door opened and his mom entered. He could barely see her in the darkness and he flinched when she took his hands. He realized he was shaking. "I know today is very important for you," she murmured. "Your dad thinks you're weak, but you told him you'll prove him wrong. You're strong, Kou-kun. Even though you gave up multiple times before, you're still here. Never forget that you aren't fighting alone. Your entire team will back you up and carry you. If you fall, they'll catch you. If you miss a spike, they'll score three more to make it up. So take it easy and play your best. Okay?"

He nodded shakily. He could see her smile. "Good. Go change and meet me downstairs. Let's go for a run." She headed out, closing the door behind her. He glanced down at his hands, realizing the shaking had stopped. He placed a hand over his heart, recognizing its usual rate. He grabbed his jacket, pulling it over his T-shirt as he headed out to join her.

She let him set the pace. Although his legs felt like lead, he was able to keep a consistent speed, reassured by his mom's presence. The dark sky was gradually invaded by streaks of orange as the sun began to rise and faint sunlight began to chase the darkness away by the time Bokuto returned home. He took a quick shower while his mom prepared breakfast and he was able to scarf down three servings. He was definitely calm now.

Komi arrived at their door an hour later, his jacket zipped up and his bag swung over his shoulder. He raised a hand in greeting. "Good morning, Bokuto-hakase!" he said, fighting a yawn. Bokuto's mom smiled, reaching forward to ruffle his hair.

"Good morning, Haruki-kun. All ready to go for today?"

"I am! I hope Bo is." His tone dipped down to a low, concerned murmur. "He didn't come to practice yesterday so I couldn't tell if he'd be fine. Our captain wants to know if he can play today."

She glanced over her shoulder at her son, who was marching up the stairs to grab his bag. "He'll definitely be fine," she said, sounding oddly determined. "He needs this. Please give us as much support as you can, Haruki-kun."

"Of course! We'll do whatever it takes," Komi promised. "I'll watch him. You can count on me."

"Thank you. I'm glad the two of you are friends." She stepped aside as Bokuto approached them. He adjusted his runners, taking a step forward toward his friend. He glanced at her and she smiled broadly, slapping his back. "Get moving! Tell me all about it tonight, Kou-kun. Good luck."

"Thanks, Mom." Bokuto crossed the threshold. He gave her a look, his eyes clear. "I'm off."

"Take care." She watched the boys head down the street, smiling when Bokuto let out a laugh at whatever Komi said to him. She closed the door, knowing she had to do her best for her son's sake.

The school's bus was parked outside of the school gates, the rest of the team already gathered. Washio called out to them, alerting the others of their arrival. Komi raised his arm, Bokuto calling out "Morning!" as they approached. Nods and mumbles answered them as Hasekura stepped toward the wing spiker.

"Bokuto." Hasekura's words were low but also laced with sleep. He did his best to fight a yawn. "How're you feeling? Do you think you can play today?"

Bokuto nodded. "I can play."

"Good. Let's get going, then." Hasekura took a step forward before halting. He turned around again. "Itachiyama is in the same arena as us. You'll see your dad. Make sure you give him a proper greeting."

The owl-haired spiker nodded again. Hasekura boarded the bus first, Sayuki and Watanabe following, the remaining second-years and Akaashi trailing behind. Once they were all seated, the bus pulled away and started toward the city.

A disquieted silence hung over them. Hasekura shuffled through his papers while Sayuki idly scrolled through his phone. Konoha and Sarukui fell asleep the moment the bus started up and Washio was engaged in a card game with Watanabe. Akaashi dozed while facing the window and Bokuto started snoring a few minutes into the ride. Komi also closed his eyes, but he was unable to sleep much.

His mind kept drifting to their first opponent. Ushimaru High School often placed within the top eight, which meant they couldn't be underestimated. Their blocks were impregnable, which frustrated spikers, and only time and patience could lead to points. He had to make sure he followed on every spike and to keep his eyes open. His team was relying on him to create opportunities for points and if he couldn't do that, he couldn't call himself a libero.

Then, there was Bokuto to think about. Hasekura had wanted him to start in their first set so they could take the lead and while it sounded logical, Komi couldn't help but feel that Bokuto should start in the second set. The first set was a test ground for both teams – mistakes were bound to be made. Those were unavoidable. However, if a certain person was watching with the intention of pressuring you, the need to not mess up intensified and that would lead to disaster more often than not.

Traffic became denser the closer they neared the city. Komi had seen the crowds at the Inter-High and Spring Tournament before so these crowds were nothing compared to those. The preliminaries were hosted in a variety of gyms in different wards due to the amount of schools in Tokyo. Once the final four was determined, the venue would be second-best to the largest stage in Tokyo, but that was a long way from now. They had many opponents to face before that.

In the end, their coach decided to drop them off several blocks away so he could endure the traffic himself. Hasekura led the team through the streets, their jackets announcing their identities to spectators heading toward the gym and other competing athletes on their way inside. Bokuto, despite having had calmed down, was beginning to feel nervous again. His hand snaked up to his chest as he felt his heart race again.

"Bo?" he glanced at Komi, who was looking up at him. "You okay?"

"Uh…yeah. Just nervous." Of course Komi would notice – Bokuto knew he had a habit of covering his chest whenever his heart raced. Nothing could calm it – he hadn't mastered his nerves and he didn't think he ever would.

"Okay. If you say so." Komi knew not to push his friend more than necessary. He turned to face forward, adjusting his bag as he did so. He was nervous too and if anyone watched him, they'd be able to tell he was shaking. It was strange – even though this wasn't his first tournament, he could never control his own nerves. He hoped professional athletes were like this too.

Watanabe volunteered to handle the administrative work while Hasekura located their team's designated area. Their bags were heaped into a pile along with their jackets. They began stretching, their eyes scanning the area for familiar faces. The courts were empty as the official warm-ups for the first matches didn't begin for another half an hour. The stands were filled with cheering squads and school banners, in addition to other spectators who watched for support or their own enjoyment. The elite powerhouses dominated the space, each of them competing to see who could cheer the loudest. Bokuto spotted their own school's squad, the members chatting amongst themselves as they waited for their team to appear.

"Make sure you guys keep warm," Hasekura shouted. "Our match is right after Nohebi's on the same court. We'll head down as soon as they finish."

Agitated nods answered him. Hasekura nudged Sayuki, who was still scrolling through his phone. "Any words of wisdom for your nervous _kouhai_?"

He looked up, blinking. The other second-years watched him, trembling despite the humid atmosphere. "Not really. I mean, there's no need to be nervous. We're going to win. That's all it takes."

"Don't put more pressure on them!" Hasekura slapped his shoulder.

Washio was silent for a moment. There _was_ truth in his upperclassman's words – they were Fukurodani. They were a powerhouse and the other schools knew that. While there was pressure not to lose, he knew none of them would be blamed if that did happen.

"Besides, we've got some ridiculous guys on our team." Sayuki slung an arm around Akaashi. "A genius first-year setter, a second-year wing spiker who's better than Hasekura, a jack-of-all-trades, Tokyo's best libero, and a genius second-year middle blocker. How can we not lose?"

The other second-years started mumbling in denial. Akaashi ducked his head to escape Sayuki's hold, bowing slightly in respect. "Thank you for the praise," he said, "but I'm a far cry from Watanabe-san."

"No, don't think that, Akaashi. I do believe that we'll win with you as the setter," Watanabe said as he sat down beside Hasekura. "You're passionate. You have motivation. That's more than enough to help you win."

Their coach arrived ten minutes later, announcing that they could head over to the sub-gym to begin warming up. Yukie remained behind to watch their belongings as the boys followed their coach, claiming a court to themselves. The other teams who were scheduled to compete after the first few matches were already there and when the Fukurodani team entered, all eyes turned toward them.

Attention always landed on the powerhouse teams. Akaashi could feel the glares of his opponents, their jealousy swirling around him. He landed successful toss after toss, watching his teammates spike them effortlessly. When it was Bokuto's turn, Akaashi sent him his usual toss and the owl-haired spiker swung his arm with full power. It bounced out of bounds, reaching all the way to the ceiling.

His team stared at him. Bokuto landed, turning around to reveal his determined expression, his eyes sparking with emotion. Losing wasn't an option. Winning was all there was.

"Finish up! We're heading to the court in five minutes," their coach called out. Balls were collected and jackets were thrown on. Akaashi finished his last toss before heading out, Konoha ducking under the net to follow. Komi approached Bokuto, who was sitting on the bench, offering him his hand. "Ready?" he asked.

"No." Bokuto drew in a breath. He felt good – his heart was steady, he was warmed up, and he wasn't shaking. He grasped his friend's hand and pulled himself up. "I will be."

Komi nodded at him. "Remember, Bo, we're all behind you." The other second-years raised their heads, Hasekura and Sayuki giving him a thumbs-up each. Akaashi was fiddling with his fingers, his eyes shining with determination. "Let's have fun. Okay?"

"Right." Bokuto pulled his jacket on. "Let's go."

Nohebi won their match, taking the first two sets easily. Their opponents walked off with bowed heads, the victors taking their time to gather their equipment and head out. "Let's go!" Hasekura shouted. He walked onto the court first, initiating the start of the Fukurodani cheering squad. Bokuto raised his head, ears assaulted by the barrage of sound coming from all sides of him. He wondered where his dad was – Itachiyama wasn't playing until the afternoon. Did that mean they were sitting in the stands as they waited? Was his dad with them, then?

"Bokuto." Konoha elbowed him. He pointed to one of the banners lining the walls. "Over there."

He turned in the direction Konoha pointed at. Itachiyama's cheering squad was contained behind the length of their school banner, their cheering squad seated. Behind them was a group of boys, huddled together in matching track pants and jackets. Sitting beside them was his dad, his coach jacket zipped up, and his arms were folded against his chest. Bokuto looked away, his eyes darting in his dad's direction quickly. Depending on which side of the court they were on, he would face him. _I want to show him what I'm capable of._

Their opponents, Ushimaru High School, were already on the court, warming up. The players were tall – all of them were around Washio's height. Even their libero was as tall as him. Komi muttered something under his breath, but Bokuto couldn't hear him. Despite the endless cheering and whistles going off, all he could hear was his own heartbeat.

"Ushimaru will not make scoring easy," their coach said once they gathered around him. "Make sure you all follow-up properly. Don't get frustrated if you get shut out – we'll just take back the point. Our offensive power is strong, so make sure you don't forget it."

"Right," his team chimed. Their coach nodded at Bokuto. "You'll be starting in the first set. Sarukui will switch with you in the second set. Start us off with a strong serve."

Bokuto nodded. Hasekura turned, facing the court. "Let's get out there. We're taking the first set!"

"Yeah!" the others followed him. Bokuto lingered behind, his hand clutching his chest tightly. Now that he was here, he couldn't tell if nerves or excitement made his heart race. How many years had it been since he competed in an official match? This was his first high school tournament. Would it be his last? _I won't let it come to that._ He stepped onto the court.

The captains greeted each other. The teams bowed and the referee blew his whistle, tossing the ball toward Fukurodani's side. Hasekura caught it, bounced it once, and passed it on to Bokuto. He drew in a deep breath as he closed his eyes. He waited for the whistle.

Time began to slow. His teammates shouted "Nice serve!" whereas the other teams shouted "Nice kill!" or "Don't mind!" The cheers echoed around him, majority for the other teams, but he was able to hear Fukurodani's chant. Dozens of whistles went off at once, cheers following or groans echoing. The balls traveled from one set of hands to another in a span of seconds, all traveling at a high speed. This was the only time he could hold it.

The whistle snapped him back to reality. Silence fell over their court as they waited for the ball to soar above their heads. Bokuto didn't think as he tossed the ball in the air. His feet stepped into the motion and he jumped, pulling his arm back. The ball met the heel of his hand and it shot across the air, landing on the other court. It was a service ace.

"Service ace!" Komi shouted, awed.

"Hey, Bokuto, don't hog all the attention for yourself," Hasekura barked at him. "I've got service aces to hit too!"

His other teammates shouted praise at him, their grins wide across their faces. The ball went back to Bokuto and he spun it in his hands. The whistle blew again and he jumped for the serve. Ushimaru's libero received it this time.

An attack was coming. The setter sent it to the left and Sayuki jumped with Hasekura. Bokuto stood at the straight, Komi guarding the cross. The ball rebounded off the block and Bokuto was quick to save it. Akaashi ran to its landing point. "Hasekura-san!"

"On it!" Hasekura jumped, the ball sailing toward him. He spiked it into the block, using brute force to break through. The second point went toward Fukurodani. "All right!"

"Nice save, Bo," Komi said, patting his shoulder. Bokuto nodded, returning to his position for the next serve. This game was now underway.

* * *

Bokuto Takeshi was not easily amused. There was once a time when watching volleyball gave him a sense of joy, but now that he was constantly surrounded by the sport, he no longer felt that way. In the beginning, as a new athlete, the most important element to any sport was having fun. However, after competing in the professional realm, all he could achieve was victory and results.

His team watched the ongoing games in silence. Despite two other games happening at once, majority of the gym's attention focused on the match against Fukurodani and Ushimaru. Both schools were powerhouses, but Fukurodani had a slight advantage as they had represented Tokyo more times than Ushimaru had. Fukurodani's coach was some geezer Takeshi didn't know, although he supposed the older man should not be underestimated. He knew majority of the coaches in Tokyo – all except for Takeyuki Yamiji.

He watched Takeyuki advise his team when Ushimaru called for their first timeout. The score was tied at 18-18 and it seemed as if neither team could hold the lead for long. Takeshi's eyes lingered over each of the players, naming them from memory. He had done his fair share of scouting, but none of Fukurodani's players were names he knew beforehand. His gaze landed on Koutarou, who was seated beside the manager, a towel draped around his neck, a water bottle clutched in his hands. His movements in the beginning were refined, practiced. As time went on, he began to slow down, his actions becoming sloppier. It was a surprise that he hadn't missed a serve or spike yet.

"Um, Coach? Can I ask you a question?" he turned when his libero, Komori spoke up. "Your son is playing in the match, right?"

"That number five, right?" one of the third-years commented behind him. "He looks nothing like you, Coach, but he does play like you."

Takeshi nodded, turning back to his son. The match was about to resume and Koutarou was at the front, huddled around his team. They broke apart when the referee blew his whistle. Komori leaned forward to get a better view. "Why didn't he come to Itachiyama?"

"He wasn't invited." Takeshi's tone was low. Fukurodani's libero called out a chance ball, the setter raising his hands above his head. Koutarou jumped, spiking the ball with lightning speed. His straights were getting better, he noticed.

"Why not? If he plays volleyball, he should've gone for the best. Fukurodani is strong, sure, but they haven't won, unlike us."

In his third year of middle school, Koutarou didn't even look at high schools on his own. His counselors gave him recommendations, but he ignored them all, choosing to follow his middle school friend to a volleyball powerhouse school with the intention of turning his back on the sport once and for all. Not that it had worked.

When he had heard about it, Takeshi didn't confront him. He didn't think he would see his son in an official match, only in the stands as part of the school's cheering squad. If Koutarou hadn't quit, hadn't inherited a heart condition, there could've been a future where he attended Itachiyama, bringing in victory one after another.

The whistle blew after a point was taken. Fukurodani was first to reach twenty points, Ushimaru a single point behind. He watched Koutarou throw his fist in the air, his feet staggering slightly. His teammates surrounded him for an instant, and when they broke away, Koutarou remained standing. Takeshi recognized fatigue when he saw it and he knew Koutarou surpassed his limit long ago.

_Show me your strength. Show me your worth. Show me why I should call you my son._ The whistle rang in the air and the rally started. His eyes never left the court.

* * *

_There's something wrong with me._

Bokuto glanced at his teammates. Sweat clung to their foreheads and matted their hair, the collars of their jerseys slick with it. None of them were breathing hard – the first set was taking longer than either team preferred, but it was still too early for any of them to get out of breath. His eyes drifted toward the scoreboard – just five more points. All he needed to do was endure the last five points before he could catch a break. Playing the entire first set was enough of a greeting to his dad. If he played any longer, his heart would explode.

No. It felt like it would burst at any moment. His hand clutched his chest, his breaths coming out as hoarse pants. It started racing around their tenth point and it had only accelerated from then on. His vision remained stable and his balance was not affected much. He could endure this. He had to.

He jumped up for the block with Akaashi, forcing the ball to go along the length of the court. Komi caught it and the ball soared toward Akaashi. Bokuto landed and took several steps back for his run-up, freezing when his vision started to spin. The ball was sent toward Washio. "Washio-san!"

Washio jumped, tapping the ball over the block. The wing spiker caught it and an attack was underway. Bokuto regained his bearings quickly, his eyes following the ball. He jumped with Washio this time, Komi missing the ball by a centimeter. They were tied again.

"Bokuto, are you okay?" Washio asked him. The wing spiker nodded wordlessly, so Washio settled with giving him a pat on the shoulder. No one else approached him.

After scoring with Hasekura's back attack, Bokuto was rotated to the back line. Komi offered him his fist, which he bumped back, making the libero smile. "I'll cover for you," Komi said. "Take a break. Go back in front at full strength."

Bokuto nodded again. He caught the ball Konoha tossed to him, his teammate giving him a nod. Bokuto drew in a breath as he stepped away from the end line. The referee motioned him to serve.

He tossed the ball, stepped into his run-up, and jumped. His vision blurred again, but this time, he knew where he was aiming. He sent the ball through the air, landing in time to watch it sail toward the setter. Komi stood at the cross, leaving him to watch the straight. Hasekura picked up the feint, shouting, "Follow!" as he picked himself from the floor.

"Konoha-san!" the ball flew toward Konoha. He pulled his arm back, scowling. No one had pulled a successful rebound off Ushimaru before and he knew he was no exception. He spiked a cross, unsurprised that it was picked up by the libero.

The rally ended with Ushimaru's point, but Fukurodani earned it back when the serve went out. Komi started off the court since he had to be switched out, stopping when he noticed Bokuto. His friend was unnaturally still, his head lowered as if he was focusing on something. Komi approached him. "Bo?"

Bokuto jumped, startled, He glanced at him. "Y-yeah?"

"I know I ask you this a lot, but…" Komi shook his head. "Are you okay?"

"I-I…guess." He glanced at Washio, who was spinning the ball in his hands for the serve. "Komi-yan…can you…"

He trailed off, unable to continue. Komi blinked at him expectantly, but the wing spiker said nothing more. Komi turned and headed off court, standing with the rest of the bench members. He had promised Bokuto's mom he'd watch him, make sure he'll be all right. Bokuto definitely wasn't all right anymore.

Washio tossed the ball for his serve. Bokuto watched him, his eyes following the ball as it sailed across the court toward their opponents. A clean receive sent it toward the setter and the spikers began their approach. Hasekura was the only decent receiver in this rotation, unless Sayuki was able to stop all spikes. Bokuto felt unease trickling through him – it happened whenever Komi was off the court, whether he was in front or back. He relied on his friend too much, he knew, but as a spiker, he had a tendency to spike freely knowing that someone was watching his back. Even now, without a reliable defender, their defense was cracked.

"One touch!" Sayuki shouted. Washio sent the ball to Akaashi, who tossed it to Konoha. He aimed for a straight, the ball going long. Sayuki jumped to push it over, but the other middle blocker overwhelmed him. The ball was falling on their side.

Bokuto dived without realizing it. The ball bounced off his arms as he slid into a flying fall. He jerked his head upward. "Cover!"

Akaashi jumped, hands ready to toss. Both teams were caught off-guard when he pushed it over the net lightly, the ball bouncing after it landed. Ushimaru shot glares at him while his team praised him. Akaashi bowed his head quickly, turning to offer Bokuto a hand. "Nice save, Bokuto-san."

The wing spiker grasped it to pull himself up. He staggered, shaking himself to dispel the dizziness. He mustered his brightest grin, unable to stop exhaustion from lacing his words. He could barely hear anything over his thunderous heartbeat and he almost stumbled when he returned to his spot on the court. He wished he followed through with his request after all.

It was too late now. "Bokuto." He raised his head when Hasekura called out to him. "We're switching you out after this point." He turned his back, letting unspoken words linger in the air. Even in his haze, Bokuto understood what he meant.

Washio served the ball again. The attack went through the block and Hasekura saved it. Akaashi tossed the ball to Sayuki, who spiked it with as much as force as he could handle. The libero saved it, the setter running to follow it. He sent it to their ace, Akaashi and Konoha jumped for the block. The ball flew toward Bokuto and he dived to save it. He was slow to pick himself up and Akaashi sent it to Konoha, whose straight was picked up. Another attack was coming.

The ball tore through Sayuki's block. Hasekura dived for it, shouting when the ball soared into the air again. "Akaashi!" he shouted.

Bokuto started his approach. Sayuki acted as a decoy and Konoha jumped as well, head jerking to the side when he realized the ball wasn't heading toward him. Akaashi sent the ball to Bokuto for his first back attack.

_You'll see your dad. Make sure you give him a proper greeting_. He pulled his arm back, spiking the ball freely. Their opponents were unable to react in time and the ball landed close to the end line. It was still in and it earned them another point.

Cheers erupted around him. His name was being chanted, his teammates were shouting at him. The spectators cheered for him, exchanging exclamations and dismay. Bokuto's feet touched the floor as he landed and in that moment, he felt peace. He saw light. This was what he missed the most when he spent his days idling around, volleying a ball to himself against the wall, watching his friends play while he sat on the sidelines. This moment of glory was worth a thousand victories.

His vision turned white and the world flipped itself around. A ringing in his ears made him aware of his heartbeat, too erratic to count. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. With little energy he had left, he closed his eyes, allowing silence to cradle him to a place far, far away.

* * *

Sensation returned to his body bit by bit. He wiggled his toes, twitched his fingers. He felt his arms lying limply by his sides, brushing against cloth. His legs felt heavy, but not as heavy as his chest, which felt as if a rock was sitting on top of it. He focused on his breathing, his slow breaths gaining momentum as he regained control. Finally, he let his heartbeat wash over him, the usual rhythm sped up slightly. He opened his eyes.

A tiled ceiling greeted him. A thin blanket covered his body and an electronic beep matched his heartbeat. He blinked slowly, turning his head experimentally. The bed stand had his phone and a bottle of water, whereas the opposite side stood another object. He recognized it after staring at it – it monitored his heartbeat.

_Am I in the hospital?_ He felt his heartbeat spike when realization hit him. _The match – I collapsed. In the middle of the match. No…no…why…?_

"Bokuto-kun?" a feminine voice made him jump. He turned to face her, her eyes soft with worry. Her shoulders relaxed. "Good, you're awake. You're in the hospital, Bokuto-kun. Please stay calm, all right? Ask me any questions slowly."

"Why am I here?" he whispered.

"You collapsed. From what I was told, you were in the middle of a volleyball match and after a long rally, your strength gave out. The medical staff at the gym were alerted of what happened and you were brought to the hospital." She offered him a smile. "You're very brave to have been able to play with your condition. Many others would limit their time playing, but you pushed yourself to the limit. That's also dangerous, so please don't make it a habit."

He fell silent. His heartbeat resumed its usual rhythm as the nurse asked him a few more questions, which he responded without thought. She took a step back once she finished. "Your parents have already been contacted," she said before heading off. "Once they arrive, the doctor will tell you what'll happen next."

Silence wreathed over him when the nurse departed. He could hear voices outside – unfamiliar voices – as well as other equipment humming in the background. He reached for his phone with some difficulty, realizing his muscles were sore since he didn't cool down properly. The device fell onto his bed and he flipped it over. He felt another spike in the steady rhythm when he pressed the home button.

3:22 PM. The match had to be over now. Fukurodani should be playing their second match. Unless they lost.

_It's my fault._ He squeezed his eyes shut. _If we lost, it's all my fault for passing out in the most crucial part of the match._

There were no messages, only a missed call from his mom. He tucked the phone away, turning to face the ceiling again. With the cables monitoring his heart, he wasn't able to curl onto his side and hide his tears like that. He had to cry openly.

* * *

Bokuto Kaede did not usually keep her phone on her while working - depending on the animal she was working with, the ringer could agitate them or distract them. However, there were exceptions, such as days when Koutarou was playing in a match.

She had faith in him, had faith in his team to help watch him. She knew he could lose track of himself in the heat of the moment, so someone else would have to be able to make him stop and take a break. Still, she kept her phone on her for the reason that anything could happen. She never expected it to ring though.

"Bokuto-san, your son Koutarou is in the hospital. Please come as soon as you are able." She had never heard those words before. Of course, no one tried to hold her back when she announced she had to leave. Since her husband had the car for the day, she called in a favor from a friend to take her there.

She contacted his coach next for more information. "I apologize, Bokuto-hakase," he said, his tone grim and sincere. "I knew your son surpassed his limit early on, but I allowed him to keep playing. He continued persisting until he…collapsed in the end."

"If all he did was collapse, surely the hospital wasn't necessary?" Kaede inquired. When he had collapsed in the past, he was always taken to the infirmary. It was only the first time that he had been rushed to the hospital.

"About that…he didn't just collapse. He…his…"

_His heart stopped. The medical team was able to revive him, so there was no harm, but the entire experience was terrifying, nonetheless_. The coach's words echoed in her mind as she rode the elevator to the fifth floor. She marched down the hallway, lab coat fluttering, locating her son's room. She took a step inside.

He was crying. She froze at the doorway, taking a moment to hear his sobs and hiccups. Another machine beeped in time with his heart and by simply hearing that, she knew something was wrong. His heartbeat was fast, frighteningly so. She forced herself forward. "Kou-kun?"

Her son wasn't weak – fragile was the word she preferred. He was an undeniably strong volleyball player with amazing mentality, but if you take that away from him, all you'd get is an owl-haired boy with a fragile heart. Kaede sank down into the empty chair beside him, cradling his hand in hers. "Oh, Kou-kun," she whispered. "You gave us all a big scare, you know. You shouldn't be the one crying."

"Mom." His voice was hoarse, breathless. "I…I'm scared that the team lost b-because of me."

"Kou-kun, your team isn't a group of amateurs. They're a powerhouse. They won't lose easily – in fact, they'd work even harder to make sure your efforts wouldn't go to waste. Have faith in them."

He nodded, remaining silent. He lifted a hand to wipe his eyes, the beeping of his heartbeat returning to its steady, accelerated rhythm. Kaede took her phone out, wondering if her husband had gotten a call as well. Since the gym was close by, the least she could do was drag him over to visit their son.

"May I come in?" a voice asked. Heeled shoes tapped against the floor and a doctor entered the room, a file folder tucked under his arm. He nodded at the duo. "Good afternoon. Please call me Shinohara Katsuki."

"Good afternoon. I'm Bokuto Kaede." Kaede bowed. "Thank you for taking care of Koutarou."

Shinohara shook his head. "That's my job. I'm assuming you are the only one coming, Bokuto-san?"

"Yes. My husband is…occupied with his work. I support Koutarou in all of his medical treatments." Kaede's grip beneath Bokuto's hand tightened. "What is his condition, Doctor?"

"My team and I ran a few tests while Bokuto-kun was unconscious and we found out that his pacemaker has run out of battery," Shinohara said. "A pacemaker's battery life can last anywhere from seven to ten years and they often turn off without warning once the battery has run out."

Kaede frowned. "We went to the doctor before the tournament and he told us it was safe for Kou-kun to play."

"He has an older model, which makes predicting the battery life a bit of a challenge. I suppose your doctor believed Bokuto-kun wouldn't push himself as hard as he did, which may have led to the pacemaker's battery life ending sooner than it should've."

"Is that why I collapsed?" Bokuto asked quietly.

Shinohara nodded. "I can't tell you the precise moment your pacemaker shut off, but it definitely explains why this particular incident is much more serious than previous ones. Your record shows that you collapsed during matches before, but you always regained consciousness. This time, your heart stopped."

Bokuto flinched, caught by surprise. A hand flew to his chest and he winced when it started to ache. His mom touched his shoulder. "Relax, Kou-kun. You're all right now."

It took him a moment to calm down. Shinohara handed his file to Kaede. "We'll have you remain overnight so we can watch you and run a few more tests," he said. "By the time you leave tomorrow, everything will be sent to your doctor and he'll be able to tell you the next course of action."

"That'll be to replace the pacemaker, correct?" Kaede asked.

"Yes. Depending on how dependent you are on it, you may be scheduled sooner. However, you may have to wait several weeks if it isn't so urgent."

"What do I do until then?" Bokuto asked.

The doctor gave him a small smile. "Rest. You've worked very hard, Bokuto-kun – I can tell. I will also advise you not to play volleyball until after you replace your pacemaker. It's very dangerous for you to play without it and I believe your life is much more valuable than anything else."

With no other questions, the doctor took his lead. Kaede thumbed through the papers within the folder, recognizing EKG graphs and other information recorded while Bokuto was unconscious. She placed it in her bag before standing up. "I'll make a few calls. If you don't need anything else, I'll also head home first to pack a few things for you. Will you be okay by yourself?"

He nodded. Kaede headed out, glancing at her son over her shoulder. He stared at the ceiling for several long moments, his eyes closing after a minute. He fell asleep soon after and Kaede stepped outside, reassured that her son wasn't going to go anywhere.

It wasn't until early evening that Bokuto woke up again. He found a note from his mom tapped onto a takeout box, saying that she'll return before visiting hours were over. He reached over to open it, smiling when he recognized his favorite yakisoba with a side of yakuniku. A pair of chopsticks sat at the bottom of the accompanying bag and he broke them apart, taking the first bite with closed eyes to savor the flavor.

The hospital was unusually quiet compared to others he had visited. A nurse stopped by every so often to check on him, but he did not see Dr. Shinohara. His trash sat in a heap on the bed stand when he finished and he leaned back into the bed with a satisfied sigh. Time seemed to move slowly since he had nothing better to do. What kind of hospital didn't have Wi-Fi? At least he had a few games on his phone.

He started humming along to the familiar BGM as his game loaded. He raised his head when he heard a commotion outside, a variety of voices blended together to create a mess of hisses and whisper-shouts. Only one voice struck him. "Where are you guys going? It's this way!"

_Komi-yan._ Bokuto felt his heartbeat race again, but there was nothing he could to do calm it. The footsteps became louder and louder until Komi exclaimed, "See? Told you guys."

"Shut up, Komi. We're in a hospital." Hasekura's bark was low, Sayuki's chuckle echoing. The first person to enter was Komi and his friend's eyes lit up at the sight of him.

"Bo! How're you feeling?" Komi approached his bedside, the rest of the team fanning out around him.

Bokuto stared at them. All of them were wearing their team jackets, their expressions clear. He swallowed the lump lodged in his throat, unable to speak. When he managed to, his voice was hoarse. "You aren't mad?" he croaked. "That I…"

Hasekura sighed. He skirted around the bed until he was at the wing spiker's bed. With as much strength as he could muster, he slapped his shoulder.

"Ow!" Bokuto yelped. "What was that for?"

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Hasekura said. "Who do you think we are? We're Fukurodani. We don't lose easily. Only a powerhouse can defeat another powerhouse."

"So that means…"

"We won," Komi said. "Both matches. We have matches tomorrow too."

Bokuto felt as if the rock on his chest disappeared. He leaned into the bed, exhaling in relief. "That's good…Captain-san, I-I'm sorry for what happened…"

"Don't apologize. You couldn't help it. We're sorry too, for pushing you. We should've pulled you out as soon as we realized you needed a break. Instead, we kept you in just so you could prove to your dad you're strong." Hasekura shook his shoulder lightly. "You fought hard."

"Bokuto-san, your back attack allowed us to take the lead," Akaashi said. "We followed the momentum and it continued through to the second set. We should be thanking you for giving us that lead."

"Akaashi…" Bokuto gaped at him. "T-thank you."

Sarukui turned to him. "Are you staying overnight?" he asked. "Will you be able to play tomorrow?"

"Oh…" Bokuto lowered his head. "Actually…I won't be able to play anymore. For now," he added hastily when surprise startled them. "My…the reason I collapsed was because my pacemaker ran out of battery. The doctor said I shouldn't play until…it gets replaced."

Konoha let out a breath. "That must've been tough. How did you manage to play like that? I would've been scared out of my mind."

"You really are something, Bokuto," Washio said. "No one has ever been as strong as you."

Hasekura straightened up. "Bokuto." All eyes turned to him, the owl-haired spiker included. "Before the prelims started, Komi told me you never went to Nationals. You were close, but never close enough. Your teams thought you would take them. Let _us_ take _you_. Rest and get your pacemaker replaced. Recover and once you're good to go, we'll wait for you. Let's play on the grand stage altogether, all right?"

The others nodded, chirping their comments. "Don't make us wait too long. Rest properly, okay? Come watch us in the meantime."

"Bokuto-san." Akaashi's voice was calm, determined. "Please allow me to send tosses to you again."

Bokuto couldn't believe his team. They all watched him, their expressions hopeful and determined. Was there ever a moment when he doubted them? What did he ever do to deserve such a team? Tears flowed from his eyes before he could stop them and no matter how many times he wiped them, they wouldn't stop. He raised his head to smile at them despite the tears.

_Thank you_.


	8. The Grand Stage

"Takeshi."

He looked up from his desk of papers, spinning around to face his wife standing at the doorway. "Kaede."

"Kou-kun is having his surgery tomorrow."

"I know."

Kaede was silent for a moment. "He'll feel better if both of us take him to the hospital."

"Perhaps." Takeshi glanced down at his papers. A few administrative sheets were mixed into his notes, majority of them being handwritten observations on his opponents. "All he needs is you."

"You haven't spoken to him since the week before the preliminaries. He's anxious. He wants to know if you-"

"A son of mine who can't win isn't my son at all." His tone was low. Kaede's eyes widened, her mouth opening to comment, but he swept on. "That's what I told Koutarou when he was in middle school. He quit volleyball afterwards."

"I know." Kaede remembered that night. Her son had buried himself deep into her arms, crying because of his decision to quit. It wasn't an easy choice – not for him, not for his parents. For a child to quit a sport he loved so much was never an easy decision, especially at that age.

"My philosophy has not changed. Winning is everything in competitive sports. Once you lose, there is nothing you can do to redeem yourself. The next attempt may be stronger, but it may be weaker. One loss leads to another, but the opposite is also true. Koutarou believed this and when he could no longer win, he gave up. I didn't raise him to be a loser, Kaede. I raised him to be a winner."

"Yes, and that mentality crushed him."

Takeshi shook his head. "No. Koutarou found his resolve again – he found his way to back to his feet. He started playing again. He achieved victory in his own way."

He stood, turning his back to his wife as he stared at the ceiling. "I have said many harsh things to him…I'm glad he interpreted them in a way to make him stronger. It is indeed my fault that he inherited my family's heart condition and I never apologized for it. He has a right to blame me, to say that it isn't his fault. I never acknowledged the fact that he can be a volleyball player with his heart. I wonder…if he'll let me."

"Of course." Kaede's words were soft. "Of course he would. That's all…it's more than what he had ever wanted."

The two spoke for a while longer. Unfortunately, Takeshi had paperwork to finish tomorrow so he couldn't accompany them to the hospital, but he promised to be there afterwards. Kaede headed upstairs, her pace slowing when she realized her son was occupied.

"Itachiyama was really strong, Bo. Insanely strong. I still can't believe we took a set from them."

"It was a close game, right?"

"Super close. I kind of understand how you feel now – I seriously thought my heart was going to explode! There was so much pressure on both of us. I was relieved when it was over. Even though we lost, we're still going to Nationals." There was a pause. "Tomorrow is your day, right? For your surgery?"

"Yeah. I can't wait to stop feeling like I just ran ten laps nonstop or something."

"It scared me too, honestly. I kept thinking you'd randomly collapse in the middle of class."

Bokuto chuckled lightly. "Nah, I know better than that."

"You finally admit it! That took you what, how many years?"

"Hey, in my defense, I…I didn't want to tell anyone I have a heart condition. I was stubborn and stupid. Sorry for worrying you, Komi-yan."

"Don't worry about it. That's what friends are for, right?"

Kaede headed back downstairs as the boys' conversation shifted to practice plans and matches. She entered her own office, switching the light on to reveal the trophy cabinet against the wall. Bokuto had removed all of his past victories after he quit, but she didn't have to heart to toss his hard work out. The trophies, certificates and medals were lined neatly along the shelves, gleaming as if they were recently crafted. She hoped that there would be a day when she could return all of them back to their rightful owner.

* * *

For whatever reason, Bokuto wasn't sleeping. Instead, he was throwing his cards down in frustration when Watanabe bested him in another round of Big Two. "Why is this so complicated?" he complained. "You're too good at this, Wata-san!"

"No, you just don't know how to play your cards right. It looks like you really are just a volleyball idiot." Watanabe chuckled, gathering the cards up. "One more game?"

"I'm gonna beat you!"

"Hey, you two," Hasekura barked. "Some of us are trying to sleep." No one actually was – Konoha was listening to music, Washio was studying, Akaashi was reading the notes Yukie had written, and Komi and Sarukui were watching the ridiculous card game. Sayuki opened one eye before settling back into position.

"Let them be," he said. "Today is our big day. We'd rather have them loud than nervous."

Hasekura sighed, turning back to face forward. "True." It was unfortunate that this would be his last time listening to their shenanigans. He didn't want to think that he'd miss them.

Two weeks ago, he had made an announcement to the team once practice was over. "Sayuki and I have decided to retire after the IH," he had stated. "This team's core has revolved around the second-years in more ways than I had imagined so we have no problems passing the torch onto you guys. Make us proud, all right?"

"We'll all come and visit and help out," Sayuki had added. "You guys have no idea how to train the first-years, after all."

The second-years had half-heartedly protested, but they knew they couldn't stop their upperclassmen. Washio was the one who asked the important question. "Who'll be our new captain?"

"About that…" Hasekura glanced at Bokuto, who was sitting on the bench. "Bokuto, what're your plans?"

He had looked up in surprise. "What'd you mean?"

"Do you plan to continue playing with the team? Or will you continue dropping by whenever you want?"

"I'll play with the team. Why wouldn't I?"

Hasekura had smiled. "How do you feel about being captain?"

"Huh? Me?" Bokuto jumped to his feet. "But…I'm not qualified. I haven't done anything worth being captain for."

"I'm not choosing you because you're Bokuto Takeshi's son. I want you to be captain because you're strong, you have a leaderly presence around you, and you love volleyball more than anything else. When I first asked you to join the team, you refused, saying you'd already quit. That didn't stop you from dropping by to help out or play a quick game. Now that your resolve is one hundred percent absolute, I know you'll be a great volleyball player. You'll take our team to greater heights than I could. You'll lead them to victory, embrace the Fukurodani name, and make all of us proud. How about it?"

Bokuto was silent. He sank back onto the bench, a hand grasping his chest. Komi had taken a step forward, but his friend shook his head. "I'm okay. I just…you have too much faith in me, Captain-san."

"Fukurodani has a strange tradition of the aces being the captain. It's not always the case, but in this moment, you're my best candidate. What do you say, Bokuto?"

"Just accept it, Bo," Komi chirped. "You deserve it."

"Yeah, Captain," Konoha added. "No one else can do it better than you."

"We'll all support you," Washio said, nodding.

"You can count on us." Sarukui was just as reassuring.

The owl-haired spiker let out a breath. When he raised his head, his golden eyes were sparkling. "Okay. I accept."

"Good." Hasekura hadn't expected another response. "As for your vice, it's your pick."

"Okay…" Bokuto stood up again slowly. His eyes swept the gym, his teammates scattered around him in a semi-circle. He started forward, his shoes squeaking when he came to a halt. He drew in a breath before asking, "Akaashi, will you be my vice?"

"Pardon?" Akaashi was caught off-guard. He had been expecting Konoha or Washio to be his vice, not him. "I am only a first-year, Bokuto-san. You…you have worked with the other second-years much longer than you have with me. I am inexperienced…I'm-"

"Hear me out." Bokuto held his hands out, cutting him off. "I never really liked setters. They give me tosses, yeah, but all the setters I worked with never tossed to anyone else. They made me do all the work and tried to ride on my shoulders all the way to Nationals. I felt like I was on my own team. They all blamed me whenever we lost."

Komi started nodding in agreement. Bokuto drew in a breath. "You made me remember what it means to be a team. There are six of us on a court. We all work together to win or lose. There's no one person to blame if we lose. Akaashi, your tosses made me realize that I'm not alone. I always wanted to be this special kind of hero who could play volleyball forever, but I'm not. I can play for a set and half at most before I need a break. But that's okay. Even without me there, we can still win. It's because we're all a team and we all trust each other. I trust the guys to make their own decisions and I trust you to make it all happen. You're perfect for the job."

Akaashi continued staring at Bokuto in disbelief for a while longer. He bowed his head after a long silence. "I'll do my best to meet your expectations," he had said. His usual stoic expression was overwhelmed with emotion. "Thank you, Bokuto-san."

The bus arrived at the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium. A sea of spectators and players greeted them as well as camera crews pointing their cameras in all directions to record the chaos. Hasekura and his team were dropped off so their coach could park the vehicle and they approached the entrance, team jackets bright in the crowd. Bokuto couldn't help but stop and stare – this was the grand stage. This was Nationals.

"Hey, Bokuto, stay with us," Hasekura shouted at him. The spiker quickly joined them as they squeezed through the crowd to enter the arena. "If you need to stop and catch your breath, just say so."

"I'm fine!" Bokuto declared. "I'm all fired up!"

Komi shook his head. "Just don't get lost. That's worse than you collapsing in the middle of the crowd."

"I won't do either! I'm fine, I swear." Bokuto kept the grin on his face to mask the emotions swirling inside him. While he still felt like his heart was going to burst, he knew it wouldn't be enough to make him pass out. They were all nervous and he could think of no better way than to mask his unease with a grin and a loud voice.

Yukie remained behind to watch their belongings again as the team headed toward the courts, Hasekura holding his team's post. They were all wearing their jerseys and they stood in numerical order behind their captain. Their coach appeared to give him simple instructions, but Hasekura had told them what to expect earlier on. Bokuto craned his neck in an attempt to locate Itachiyama's line, having had recognized their jerseys in the next line over. "Komi-yan, I'll be back in a moment."

"Where are you going?" Komi called out to him.

"I'm gonna say hi to someone!" Bokuto shouted. He disappeared into the crowd before his friend could say anything else.

Perhaps it was by luck or chance, or perhaps both of them knew what the other was thinking. As the crowd thinned out and Bokuto slowed to a halt, he recognized the figure of the man who had taught him how to hold a volleyball, how to serve, how to attack, how to win. "Dad!"

Bokuto Takeshi turned around, coming face to face with his son. He had seen Koutarou in his jersey during the Ushimaru match, but never up close. His son's hair was styled by Kaede's expert hand, the number five bold and striking on the white jersey. What caught Takeshi by surprise was the fact that Koutarou wore kneepads that went to his thighs – just as he had when he played professionally.

"Dad, what are these?" Koutarou was six when he found a stray pair of kneepads lying around. He had tried stretching them out. "Hey, they're taller than me! That's no fair!"

Takeshi had chuckled in amusement, picking his son up and placing him on his lap. "They're kneepads. You wear them to protect yourself when you play."

"Why're they so long?" Koutarou had asked. "Your knees aren't that long."

"No, but they're different. When you're on a volleyball court, you should do what you can to stand out. A crowd loves it when a spiker hits a powerful spike or a libero makes a miraculous save. Do you know what's even better?"

"What?"

"A spiker who looks cool while playing safely."

Takeshi blinked the memory away. "Koutarou. This is your first IH, isn't it? I wish you luck."

"Thanks, Dad. I…" Bokuto hesitated. "I…I'm not giving up on volleyball. I won't quit or run away again. I know my own limits and weaknesses and I'll use them to defeat your team. When my team faced off against yours in the prelim finals, I was cheering them on. If we go against you again, I'll throw everything you taught me back to you."

His dad wouldn't have wanted it any other way. This was how he raised his son – to be strong and proud, confident and unwavering. At the beginning, Takeshi hadn't valued teamwork as much as he did now – Itachiyama showed him that. He was glad that his son had found the right team for himself. "Koutarou-"

"Attention all participants," a disembodied voice echoed over the speakers. "Please return to your teams. The opening ceremony will begin in five minutes."

"Oh, crap. I have to go." Bokuto turned his heel to head back. "I'll see you later, Dad."

"I'll be watching." Takeshi's words tumbled out in a rush. "Make me proud."

"You got it!" Bokuto dashed down the corridor, squeezing through the crowd to return to the gym's entrance. Takeshi pivoted around and started walking again. Even though he had his own team to mind, he had to watch the opening act for his son's first national-level game.

Fukurodani was on the court first, their opponent Toriyama hailing from Kobe. The cheering squads awakened from their silence, flags waving in the air and drums thumping a steady beat. The warm-ups ended all too quickly and the first round of matches were about to begin.

The Fukurodani team assembled around their coach. A cameraman stood in the corner to record them and Takeyuki did his best to ignore him. His team's collective gaze also focused on him, their bodies stiff and rigid. "For the second-years, this'll be your first time on a national level," he said. "Make mistakes. Get used to the floor and the space. Once you're warmed up, earn back everything you missed."

"Right," the second-years chimed. Takeyuki turned toward Bokuto. "You'll be starting, Bokuto. If you feel unwell at any moment, tell Komi and we'll switch you out immediately. No arguing."

"I got it." Bokuto nodded. He was a far cry away from before, when he tried denying he had a heart condition. It was part of him and it affected many aspects of his life. He couldn't deny it any longer.

Hasekura took over to deliver his speech. "This is the third-years' final tournament, but it won't be for the rest of you. Let this motivate you to not only reach this stage but to advance as far as you can. Tough opponents will stand in your way – rivalries will be born and grudges will be made. Use all you can to help you improve and win."

"We're counting on you guys," Sayuki added. "We can at least do some of the work to give you guys a break."

The referee blew his whistle. Hasekura drew in a breath to shout at the top of his lungs, "Fukurodani, fight!"

"Yeah!" his team responded just as loudly. They walked onto the court, taking their starting positions. Bokuto hadn't played in a match at this scale before – the prelims was nothing compared to this. He was excited. He couldn't wait to get started.

The teams bowed, wishing each other a good game. Toriyama had the first serve and both teams stood tensely as they waited for the whistle. A collective silence fell over the courts, as all three games commenced at the same time. Bokuto didn't have to worry about the receive, fortunately, since he was in the front, so he let his eyes wander. He noticed his dad behind Itachiyama's cheering squad, eyes narrowed, focused on something. Was he actually paying attention to him or was he looking at something else? Bokuto's attention flickered back to his opponents, realizing they were all trembling, just like he was. No one could stand on this court without feeling nervous.

All three whistles went off in near unison. The serves went up at varying times, Toriyama's being second to sail through the air. Komi received it without trouble. "All right!"

Akaashi raised his hands. Washio approached the center, jumping for the spike. He was just a decoy, however, and the ball arched high passed him. Bokuto appeared in a flash, jumping to reach an alarming height. He pulled his arm back, his vision clear despite the two-man block trying to thwart him. He stared at the block, swinging his arm down a second after, pulling off the tightest straight he had ever mustered. The first point went to him.

"All right! Hey, hey, hey!" Bokuto threw his fist in the air, the cheering squad chanting his name. His teammates shouted at him, completely pumped now. Their anxiety and nerves had vanished with that single spike.

Bokuto was rotated into the back line for the serve. He spun the ball several times, raising his head in his dad's direction. He spotted him on his feet conversing with someone else and when his dad turned to look in his direction, Bokuto thought his dad was smiling.

The referee blew his whistle, signaling for him to serve. He drew in a breath, feeling his heart beating steadily, consistently. The sounds from the other courts faded into the background and all he could hear was his teammates calling out "Nice serve!" He never did have a bad serve. At least, he couldn't remember one. It wouldn't be good if he started it now.

He tossed the ball higher than usual. His steps were slow yet quick and he jumped when he reached the end line. The ball descended in front of him and he hit it with the palm of his hand. He landed, raising his head, watching the ball sail through the air like an owl soaring freely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's the end! there's also a bonus chapter with bo and kuroo at the training camp if you're interested in that~~
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> [writing blog](http://anime-matchmaker.tumblr.com/)


	9. Bonus: A Cat, a Crow, and an Owl

**Bonus Chapter: A Cat, a Crow, and an Owl**

Bokuto hadn't attended a training camp before. Sure, there were the weeklong camps during his elementary school days, but those were simple. Laid-back. Nothing hard. Even without telling him what to expect, he knew a training camp in high school was going to be long, exhausting, and difficult.

"You can stop whenever you want," Komi said, as if he knew what his friend was thinking. "Coach already told the other coaches so if you randomly check out in the middle of a game, no one would freak out."

"Except for the other players," Konoha pointed out. "They'll ask questions."

Bokuto shrugged without commenting. Whenever anyone was curious, he'd tell them. There was no point in keeping it a secret – them knowing benefited him. He didn't mind repeating himself and he didn't care if others used this knowledge against him. So long he could play with his team, nothing else mattered.

"The chances of that happening are low, are they not?" Akaashi asked. "Bokuto-san hasn't collapsed since the Inter-High tournament." Their match against Inarizaki was the only one that took three sets and Bokuto had collapsed in the middle of the second set. The team managed to win by a slim margin and from then on, Sarukui had started and Bokuto came in afterwards.

"It could still happen," Washio said. "If anyone asks, we'll direct them to you, Bokuto."

Their captain nodded. "So, where's the camp at?" Exasperated looks answered him. "What?"

"Akaashi just said it," Komi deadpanned. "We're going to Nekoma. We'll be there for a week."

"Oh. Oh! I remember that. Sorry." Bokuto smiled sheepishly. "Can we get back to practicing yet?"

His teammates exchanged looks with one another. Sure, he was their ace and he was a leader, but he was an idiot. One by one, they picked themselves from the floor and walked out, heading to the third gym.

Nekoma was on the other side of the city so the Fukurodani team didn't have to spend too much traveling, unlike Shinzen and Ubugawa, who were outside of the prefecture. When the three teams arrived, they were greeted by the Nekoma team, the members wearing their red jackets and track pants. Shinzen was the only team with their third-years remaining, the other three being dominated by second and first-years. The captains stepped forward to greet one another and Bokuto earned the most stares from the other members.

"Isn't that Bokuto Takeshi's son?"

"Is it? What's with his hair?"

"Maybe he just has the same last name…"

"No way. When are you ever going to see Bokuto as a surname? It isn't that common."

"He looks strong…but everyone on Fukurodani looks strong…"

"Isn't he the player who collapsed during the Inarizaki match?"

The voices muted themselves as the teams headed inside to set up and change. After a quick meal, the first matches of the day commenced.

Fukurodani's first opponent was Nekoma. Yukie recited the notes she had made previously, but Bokuto's attention kept wandering, specifically to Nekoma's captain, Kuroo Tetsurou. He was a middle blocker and his hair defied gravity and logic. For some reason, he pissed him off and he isn't sure why.

"Bo, pay attention." Komi slapped his shoulder. "Unless you want to sit out this round."

"I'm okay," Bokuto said quickly. "Sorry, Yukie."

She rolled her eyes before glancing back down at her notebook. "Nekoma is a defensive team. Their attacks aren't strong and their blocks aren't impressive, but their receives are solid. They're also good at hanging in there while waiting for the best time to counterattack. You better watch yourself, Bokuto."

"We'll cover you," Komi chirped.

"I know. I'm counting on you guys." Bokuto headed onto the court. "Let's go!"

Kuroo glanced over at his opponents, his eyes following the boisterous wing spiker. He didn't think someone like him could be captain, but looks could be deceiving. He turned back to his team, their eyes focusing on him. "We better keep an eye on that guy," he declared, pointing at Bokuto over his shoulder. "I don't know what he can do, but he's got to be strong."

"Isn't he Bokuto Koutarou?" Yaku asked. "I read an article about him after the IH was over. It said that he's one of the top five spikers in the country."

"Bokuto? As in, Bokuto Takeshi?" Yamamoto exclaimed. "No way! Really?"

"Who knows? Let's find out what he's made of." Kuroo led his team onto the court. The whistles blew and the games commenced.

Fukunaga served first. "All right!" Komi called out, his receive sending the ball to Akaashi. Bokuto started his approach, calling out, "Akaashi! Left!"

"Bokuto-san!" Akaashi sent the ball to him. Bokuto jumped, eyes widening when Kuroo met him with a frightening expression. Bokuto swung his arm, tapping the ball over the block for a feint. Yaku dove for it, but was unable to save it in time. The first point went toward Fukurodani.

"Nice call," Komi called out. Bokuto glared at Kuroo, the middle blocker's smirk equally pissed. They turned around to stomp back to their positions, their teammates watching. Komi exchanged looks with Konoha, both of whom shrugged. Kenma released a breath, certain that something was sparking between them.

Nekoma was an impressive team. Their captain was a skilled middle blocker – he didn't fall for decoys easily and his reflexes were fast. Every block he initiated either led to a complete shutout or one-touch and he worked well with the small setter. His form required minimum motion and Washio was often unable to read his movements until the very last second.

On the other hand, Kuroo was able to tell that Fukurodani was a powerhouse in every aspect. Even though the ace received the most tosses, the other players couldn't be underestimated and they all worked as a cohesive unit. Each of them were skilled and none of them lacked power, especially their setter. His skills impressed Kuroo far more than anyone else.

In the end, Fukurodani emerged victorious with a three-point lead. After bowing, Bokuto caught Kuroo's eye, the other captain giving him a sly smirk before walking away. Bokuto glared after him, flinching when Konoha hit his arm. "What's wrong with you?" he grumbled. "You've been glaring at him the whole game."

"I can't help it!" Bokuto folded his arms across his chest. "He pisses me off."

"His blocks are impressive though," Washio said, placing his water bottle down. "Is he really a second-year? That setter of theirs is pretty good too. Maybe as good as you, Akaashi."

Akaashi bowed his head slightly. "I'm not as talented as Watanabe-san is." He couldn't deny his senpai's words though – the other setter was skilled. To have been able to achieve a form like that must've taken a considerable amount of time to practice.

For the last match of the day, Fukurodani was against Nekoma once more. Bokuto, who sat down after playing a set against Shinzen, was on his feet the moment Akaashi announced their next opponent. The setter gave him a look. "Bokuto-san, you played before. Rest."

"I have to beat that guy." Bokuto pointed at Kuroo. "I need to get my revenge."

"He didn't even block you completely," Komi pointed out.

"Still! I have to show him I'm better than him!"

"That would work if you two were the same position," Konoha muttered.

"Very well," Akaashi said. "Komi-san, please watch him. Please tell Coach to switch him out if he needs to calm his head."

"Sure, Akaashi."

"I'll be fine!" Bokuto insisted. "I won't let him get to me."

Washio shook his head. "He already did."

Across the court, Kuroo was talking strategy with his team. "I noticed that their captain switched with another spiker every set, so he should be sitting out this time. They won't have any weaknesses though so let's just keep doing what we do. As long as we connect, they'll drop the ball at some point. We can take this set from them."

Kenma shook his head. "Your plan backfired already, Kuro." He pointed and Kuroo whirled around, watching Bokuto stomp onto the court. "It looks like he's going to play."

"He hasn't played two consecutive sets all day, so why is he starting now?" Yaku asked.

Kai glanced at his captain. "Perhaps a certain middle blocker provoked him."

"I haven't spoken to him all day." Kuroo raised his hands in defense. "Maybe he just has something against cats."

The teams took their starting positions and Kuroo found himself across from Bokuto once again. He flashed the wing spiker a grin. "Let's have a good game before the day's over, yeah?"

"We're not gonna lose!" Bokuto declared. The whistle blew and Fukunaga started the match with a serve again.

Once again, Komi received it and Akaashi sent the ball to Bokuto. "Bokuto-san!"

_From what I saw, this guy's hella good at crosses. Let's start from there._ Kuroo jumped, arms straight in the air, Kai beside him. Bokuto seemed to hover in midair as the ball floated in front of him. He didn't hesitate to spike, aiming for a cross. Kuroo jerked to his head in surprise, realizing that the ball landed within the attack line. _Damn. Who the hell does he think he is?  
_

Sarukui served next, Yaku sending the receive toward Kenma. Kuroo started his approach as Kenma jumped, the ball heading toward Kai on the left. Akaashi and Bokuto jumped for the block, Konoha saving the ball after a one-touch. Bokuto backed up to approach the net. "Send it over here!"

_He seems to be worked up over our opponents,_ Akaashi thought. He raised his hands. _I hope Komi-san won't mind if I send a few more tosses to him._ "Bokuto-san!"

"Three blockers!" Bokuto jumped as the block loomed over him. Kuroo watched his hand, cursing under his breath when he realized what he was going to do. Instead of spiking it, Bokuto hit the ball so it would rebound against Kai's hand for a rebound. Komi sent the ball up. "All right!"

"Washio-san!" Akaashi sent the ball to the center, Washio spiking it effortlessly. It was another point for Fukurodani.

Bokuto landed, giving Kuroo a smug look. Kuroo glared at him before turning to his team. "We'll get the next one!"

"Kuro." Kenma was slouched behind him. "Stay calm."

"I _am_ calm." Kuroo glanced up at Bokuto, watching his teammates praise him. He wondered if the same could be said to his opponent.

As the game progressed, the rallies became longer and longer. Shinzen and Ubugawa finished their game first and Shinzen sat on the sidelines to watch while Ubugawa completed their lap of flying falls. The ball flew in the air, diving and soaring to the different ends of the court. Neither team were ready to surrender the point.

"Get the last hit, Bo!" Komi sent it to the wing spiker. Bokuto jumped, Kuroo and Fukunaga following to block him. He aimed for a cross, Yaku receiving it. The owl-haired spiker scowled, landing, taking a step back to watch the ball. Washio glanced at him, noting his heavy breaths. He'd have to switch out soon.

"Tora!" Kenma sent the ball to Yamamoto. Bokuto jumped with Washio, the ball hitting his hand. "One touch!" he called out. Konoha received it, sending it toward Akaashi. "Akaashi! Left!" Bokuto shouted as he approached the net.

Akaashi tossed it toward him. "Bokuto-san!" Bokuto jumped again, Kuroo rushing to block him. His sudden appearance made Bokuto spike another cross and Yaku received it once again. Bokuto landed, staggering. He blinked, realizing his vision was beginning to spin.

"Bokuto-san, I'll go for the block," Akaashi said as he ran toward the net. Kenma sent the toss to Kuroo and the two blockers went up. The straight was saved by Konoha. "Sorry! Cover!"

Akaashi ran toward the ball, raising his hands. Washio went in for the approach, but Bokuto was the one who caught his eye. The team knew he had to be switched out. However, he could never leave the court without a parting gift. "Bokuto-san!"

"We're stopping this." Kuroo had been watching the gradual process of how the owl-haired wing spiker lost his steam. This was his last play. "Ready…now!"

He jumped, Yamamoto and Kenma flanking him as Bokuto reached the height of his jump. His golden eyes were blinking rapidly to find a crack in the block and he focused on the single area. _There_.

Bokuto spiked it at Kenma's fingertips, the ball flying upwards. Yaku dove as it landed along the painted line, raising his head to watch the referee. After several long seconds, the referee blew his whistle, declaring that it was in. Fukurodani cheered while Nekoma shook their heads. Kuroo landed, ignoring his teammates' curses, his eyes drifting toward Bokuto. This guy definitely wasn't any ordinary volleyball player – he had to be on par as a national-level athlete and yet…and yet he was on the floor.

Kuroo flinched away, his mind registering that the boisterous wing spiker had collapsed. His teammates surrounded him, anxiously calling his name. Bokuto regained consciousness a moment later, raising his head to reveal a sheepish expression. "Sorry, sorry," he said breathlessly. "I was gonna voluntarily ask for a switch, but that rally went for way too long. Sorry."

"You're an idiot," Komi said in exasperation. He offered him his hand. "Come on. Can you stand?"

With the others supporting him, Bokuto staggered to the bench, his replacement joining the team on the court. Kuroo noticed how no one reprimanded him, not even the coach. All he did was sit on the bench with a towel draped around his neck and a water bottle clutched in his hands.

Unsurprisingly, Fukurodani took the set. Kuroo led his team through their penalty and once he was finished, he walked over to Bokuto, still seated on the bench. He offered him his hand. "Sorry for pushing you like that," Kuroo said. "Thanks for the good game."

Bokuto stared at him for a moment. He grinned, shaking his opponent's hand vigorously. "Thanks! You were pretty good yourself too!"

After dinner was individual practice. Nekoma shared the gym space with Shinzen, Ubugawa taking the next gym over. Kuroo spotted a few of the Fukurodani players loitering around, but Bokuto and his setter were nowhere in sight. Did they already call it a day? He glanced over at his own team, each of them busy with their serves and receives – except for Kenma, who looked like he was trying to faze through the wall. Kuroo didn't bother telling him to practice since Yamamoto would do that. He picked his water bottle up and headed out.

"Where do you think you're going?" Yaku asked, catching up to him. Kai appeared behind him, looking equally curious.

"I'm gonna find Bokuto and see if he'll practice with me."

"Count me in," Yaku said, jumping down to reach him. "Catching his spikes should be good practice."

"Sure. Kai, you want to come?"

Kai shook his head. "Someone has to keep an eye on the first-years. Enjoy yourselves." With a wave of gratitude, the other second-years walked off, heading toward the second gym.

The owl-haired spiker wasn't there either, although majority of the Fukurodani boys were. The third gym shouldn't be occupied, but Kuroo decided to check anyway. He was only mildly surprised to find that the doors were open, the lights were on, and a net had been set up.

"Hello!" Kuroo showed himself in, Yaku lingering behind him. Bokuto was on the bench, Akaashi and their libero Komi standing in front of him. All three turned toward him. "No one was supposed to be using this gym, you know."

"It's too crowded in the other gyms. Besides, I've got captain status," Bokuto said with a grin. "Let's practice together, Kuroo!"

Komi caught Yaku's eye. "You're the libero, right? I'm Komi! Nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you, I'm Yaku." He gave the other libero a nod. "I hope you don't mind us practicing together."

Bokuto jumped to his feet. "Let's get started, Akaashi!"

His setter let out a small sigh. "Bokuto-san, please don't exhaust yourself. We're here to train for the rest of the week. Please pace yourself." He turned to the Nekoma second-years, giving them a polite bow. "Hello, I'm Akaashi Keiji, a first-year. It's a pleasure to work with you. Please don't rile Bokuto-san too much, if it can be helped."

"Yeah, about that…I won't hold back, but I'm fine with stopping whenever you need me to." Kuroo scratched the back of his head. "I mean, you managed to play fine during the day, so this shouldn't be too hard."

"Let's hope so!" Bokuto replied. "Come on, let's go!"

Komi and Yaku went off to the side to practice receives, leaving the court to the captains. Bokuto tossed the ball for Akaashi to set and Kuroo jumped according to his intuition. The power in Bokuto's spikes was definitely not a hundred percent – probably eighty. At the beginning, he was able to evade Kuroo completely, but once he got used to the rhythm, Kuroo started getting more one-touches in.

The bin was emptied once, twice, three times. Both captains were breathing heavily, Akaashi watching them with narrowed eyes. The liberos joined them, picking up any balls that came their way. Eventually, Bokuto called for a break and even then, Komi had to support him back to the bench.

Kuroo finished the rest of his water bottle, toweling off next. "So, Bokuto. You weren't here last year, were you? I would've remembered."

"Nah, I wasn't," Bokuto answered. "I didn't join the team until this year."

"Why not?" Yaku asked.

"When you've got a weak heart, you can't really play. It was only recently that I learned I can play, so long my team can back me up."

"Is that why you switch in every other set?"

Bokuto nodded. "I can go for a set and a half at most, then I need a break. My heart can't beat properly, see, so I have to give it time to recover and whatnot. If I don't, it'll go crazy and I end up passing out, like earlier."

Everything seemed to make sense now. Kuroo found himself being even more impressed by Bokuto – not only was he a national-level spiker, but he had a heart condition, and he kept playing despite it. This guy's strength went beyond Kuroo's imagination.

It didn't take long for the captains to become friends. They practiced together every evening in the third gym, occasionally accompanied by random members of their teams, although in the end, it was just them and Akaashi. After the first day, Bokuto's team enforced his every-other-set limit and while there were times when he couldn't play against Nekoma, Kuroo made it up to him during individual practice. The week passed quickly and the teams had to return home. The captains exchanged numbers and contact information, which resulted in multiple practice matches throughout the year.

Their final training camp in their third year brought a new team to the group: Karasuno. Bokuto played against them on the first day, realizing that they weren't anything special – they made plenty of mistakes and so many misses that he couldn't count them all. Their middle blockers caught his eye though – the stoic tall one and the bright orange shrimp. Those two made the matches much more exciting.

"Karasuno's not as strong as you make them sound, Kuroo," Bokuto complained. The trio was in the third gym again stretching, while Akaashi finished setting up. "We doubled their score today."

"Yeah, you and everyone else," Kuroo replied. He folded his arms, turning to face the doorway. "I guess they're trying new techniques, or else they wouldn't have made so many mistakes. It must be nice to be so free."

"Right? Unlike us, who have to stick to tradition," Bokuto grumbled.

Akaashi approached them. "Shall we get started?"

"Sure." Kuroo stood, walking toward the door. "I have to grab one of my first-years – I'll be right back."

Lev joined them, although he was strictly confined to receive practice with Kuroo. Bokuto, not wanting to practice spiking without a blocker, lounged around, until something caught his eye. "Hey, Kuroo, isn't that guy from Karasuno?"

Kuroo turned, spotting the first-year middle blocker walking by. A grin blossomed on his face. "Yeah." In a louder voice, he called out, "Hey! Karasuno middle blocker! Uh, Megane-kun!"

The first night was amusing, to say the least, but the nights then on were even better. The trio was greeted by Tsukishima on the second night, his expression confused and thoughtful.

"Volleyball is just a club, so why do you go to such lengths?"

Bokuto was the first to speak. "Say, Megane-kun-"

"It's Tsukishima."

"Tsukishima-kun! Do you like volleyball?"

Tsukishima blinked. He hesitated for a moment before shrugging. "Not especially."

"Maybe it's 'cause you suck." Bokuto grinned, ignoring the first-year's glare. "But, hey, it wasn't until recently I thought volleyball was fun either. Being the son of Bokuto Takeshi isn't all that great, you know. He drilled it in me that if you don't win, there's no point. That thinking ruined me, especially since I can't play as well as I want to." A hand snaked up to his chest. "My heart condition doesn't let me play for long because it can't function properly. I didn't tell anyone about it because I didn't want them to think I'm weak and that led to me collapsing during crunch time. I was the reason why we lost. I thought I'd be better off not playing ever."

He raised his head. "My team supports me. They know my limits and they stop me if I don't realize I've hit it myself. Since I know everyone has my back, I can play to my fullest. I had my moment of glory last year in the IH prelims and since then, I've wanted to experience it again. So, sure, volleyball might just be a club and all, but once you experience _that moment_ , you're gonna get hooked. Nothing else is gonna matter."

The next evening brought two more newcomers to the third gym. Hinata arrived first, Lev following afterwards. Kuroo grinned as he announced, "Let's play some three-on-three."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Akaashi asked, ignoring the noisy first-years and Bokuto joining them in their cheers.

"Why not? We've got the right numbers and everything. Come on, let's get started!"

No one was sure how the three tallest middle blockers ended up on the same team, but at least Bokuto was with his setter. Kuroo gave them all advice on their blocks and Bokuto taught Hinata a variety of attacks from the many tricks he had hidden away. The rallies were short since the first-years were inexperienced and Bokuto was blocked by Kuroo and Tsukishima way more times than he'd want to admit. The victories between the teams went back and forth so by the final evening, all that remained was the tiebreaker match.

"Chance ball!" Hinata received the ball underhandedly, sending it to Akaashi. He watched it before sending it to Bokuto on the left. The three-man block loomed over him and he was lucky enough to pull off a feint, which went through since no one was there to follow it through.

"All right!" Hinata cheered. Bokuto grinned, his forehead slick with sweat, his chest heaving for air. Kuroo caught Akaashi's eye and he quickly declared a break.

"Huh? We just started though!" Lev protested.

"Sorry, but Bokuto needs a break." Kuroo ducked under the net to slap his friend on the back, pushing him in the direction of the bench. "Come on, bro."

"Sorry," Bokuto said breathlessly. Exhaustion had finally gotten a hold of him, now that the end was approaching. He sat down, his heart gradually slowing down. Even if he recovered enough now, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to play through the rest of the set.

Kuroo watched him, as if he was able to read his friend's mind. "We can hold off the tiebreaker until next year," he said. "Our _kouhai_ can avenge for us."

"I wanted to play with you longer, Bokuto-san," Hinata said forlornly.

Bokuto smiled, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. "Don't worry, shrimpy. If you ever come by to visit, I'll play with you any time."

He sat out for majority of the matches for the final day of the camp, occasionally subbing in for a serve or to pull the team through a tight spot. He played for half the set against Nekoma, but when it came to the final set against Karasuno, he stood up, joining his team on the court.

"It's our last game! Of course I'll play against them," he said when Akaashi shot him a questioning look. The setter said nothing else, only nodding in defeat.

Across the court, Daichi was discussing strategy with his team. "Their ace hasn't played much all day, so it's safe to assume he won't be playing now. Let's get a set off of them!"

"Daichi." Suga pointed at their opponents. "Your plan backfired already."

Daichi whirled around, spotting the owl-haired ace bouncing between his teammates. "Okay, then," he said. "Change of plans. Let's focus on stopping their number four. That should be enough to stop him from scoring. Let's go!"

Hinata was in the back line first, but he was still quivering with excitement. He had played against Bokuto before, but this was different. He had to show the third-year what he leaned and what he was capable of.

Both teams were neck-in-neck with each other, neither of them unable to keep the lead for long. Tsukishima's blocks were persistent and unbreakable, but Bokuto blasted through them all the same. Hinata's feint surprised everyone, Bokuto included, and when their unstoppable quick went through for the first time, everyone was screaming. The others weren't planning on losing either – Noya's toss to Asahi resulted in a point, their first synchronized attack had gone smoothly, and everyone else was high in spirits.

Fukurodani wasn't lagging behind either. Akaashi concentrated on tossing to everyone equally to give Bokuto a rest. While some attempts were blocked, many went through and they were the first team to reach twenty points. The players were beginning to get out of breath, which meant Bokuto had to be feeling the effect doubly so. Komi approached him. "Bo-"

"I'm still good, Komi-yan," Bokuto assured him, giving him a thumbs-up. "I'm gonna see this all the way, okay?" he turned to Akaashi. "Send me tosses whenever you feel like it, Akaashi. I'll get 'em through any block."

Akaashi nodded. He caught the other third-years' eyes, who nodded in response, promising to watch him. The match continued and Karasuno caught up to them soon after. Komi received the serve cleanly and Akaashi raised his hands, watching the players approach the net. He jumped, pushing the ball over the net for a dump. He wasn't planning on losing either.

"One touch!" Hinata called out as Sarukui's spike hit his hand. Noya received it behind him and Hinata backed up to make his approach. Kageyama sent the ball to Tanaka, whose spike was saved by Konoha. "Sorry! Cover!" he shouted.

"Left!" Bokuto yelled. Akaashi sent the ball to him and Bokuto jumped, a three-man block appearing to thwart him. He went for the feint, which Daichi picked up, Kageyama sent the ball to Tanaka, whose cross went untouched. Karasuno had broken through.

"We'll get the next one!" his team chimed a response. Bokuto drew in a breath, careful to keep his hands by his side. It had been a long time since his chest ached this much, but the pain was going to be worth it. No matter which middle blocker was in front, he was sure to beat them.

Komi's receive went long and Akaashi had no choice but to send it to their ace. Hinata and Tanaka went up for the block and Bokuto aimed for a cross, Daichi picking it up. Hinata went in for the quick, but the toss went to Tanaka, whose straight was saved by Komi. Akaashi raised his hands, tossing the ball to Sarukui for a back attack. It was a point for Fukurodani.

Bokuto was rotated in the back. His first serve resulted in a service ace, but his second one was caught by Daichi. He received Asahi's straight and then caught Hinata's second feint. Akaashi sent it to Washio afterwards, resulting in another point. Half a dozen hands reached out for him as he picked himself up and he grabbed one at random. Konoha pulled him up, his team praising him for the nice save. He grinned, heading back to his position.

When he came back to the front line, Tsukishima stood opposite to him. Tsukishima glared at him, almost as if he was analyzing him, and Bokuto gave him a weary smile. He really should ask to be switched out, but there were two more points left until the end of the match. Unfortunately, Karasuno was tied at them so if the back-and-forth continued, they'd have to start deucing. He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

The receive went to Akaashi and he sent it to Washio. His quick was saved and Kageyama sent the ball to Asahi, Sarukui saving his spike. Akaashi went for another dump, Noya catching it this time. Tsukishima went for a spike, Washio getting a one-touch from it. Konoha dove for the ball and Sarukui sent it over the net. It was Karasuno's chance ball.

Komi saved the quick, after finally adjusting to their ace's speed. Akaashi glanced at Bokuto, noticing he was backing up for the approach. "Bokuto-san!" the ball went to the left.

Tsukishima met him in midair. Bokuto mustered all the strength he had left into his spike, breaking through it. The ball bounced without anyone catching it, leading to Fukurodani's match point. Bokuto raised a fist in the air. "All right! Hey, hey- ah!" he lost his balance momentarily, but his teammates caught him. He was quick to regain his footing. "I'm fine, don't worry!"

They exchanged looks with one another, knowing better than to argue. Sarukui went for the serve, Noya catching it. Another synchronized attack led to Karasuno's point and for the first time all week, Karasuno was deucing with another team. "Let's take this set!" Daichi shouted, his team echoing him.

Asahi went with an overhand serve. Komi sent toward Akaashi, who jumped to set the ball to Sarukui for a back attack. He was great at block outs no matter where he was positioned and he pulled one off, bringing Fukurodani to their set point again. Washio went for the serve, Tsukishima going for a quick. Bokuto and Akaashi jumped up to meet him and their eyes met. Tsukishima went for a feint, Konoha picking it up.

"Nice receive!" Akaashi landed and ran to the ball's landing spot. Bokuto did the same and he was in the air as soon as the toss went up. "Bokuto-san!"

"Finish it, Bo!" Komi shouted from the sidelines. The others followed suit, all of them encouraging their ace forward.

Tsukishima ran for the block, jumping to guard the cross, Kageyama at the straight. Bokuto watched the block, the ball floating in front of him. He spiked it against the setter's fingertips, the ball flying upwards. It landed on the end line and the whistle blew. The victors were Fukurodani.

Bokuto landed, losing his balance again. His vision turned white and his ears began to ring as he closed his eyes to concentrate on his breathing. When he opened his them again, he was facing the Karasuno team. A figure blocked them as they offered him their arm. He raised his head, realizing it was Tsukishima. The middle blocker didn't say anything and his expression was annoyed, but his eyes were soft. Bokuto grabbed it, pulling himself up, swaying from the motion. His team caught him. "Thanks, Tsukki," Bokuto called out. Tsukishima turned his back to line up with his team.

Bokuto sat on the bench to watch Karasuno finish their flying falls. Hinata ran toward him as soon as he was finished. "Are you gonna be okay, Bokuto-san?" Hinata asked. "You're not gonna die?"

"I'm not gonna die that easily, Hinata!" Bokuto said with a laugh. "I'm fine, though, really. Thanks. Sorry you had to see that."

"You're really strong, Bokuto-san! Tsukishima…he kinda told me it isn't easy for you to play. I really admire you for your strength. Thank you for everything!" Hinata bowed, his eyes shining.

"No prob! Anything for my number one disciple." Bokuto grinned. "Let's play again in the spring tournament!"

"Yes! We will!"

It was a promise he was going to keep, no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!  
> [writing blog](http://anime-matchmaker.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> you can find this fic on ff.net - I'd like a bit more exposure, which is why I'm posting here too ^^ thank you for reading!
> 
> [writing blog](http://anime-matchmaker.tumblr.com/)


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